


Vox Faunus

by Flamesong, HopeStoryteller



Series: Under a Broken Moon [2]
Category: RWBY, Warframe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Puns, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Developing Relationship, Eudico Needs A Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Major Character Injury, Maybe an extra two, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Poly HH but there's an extra one, Polyamory Negotiations, Revolution, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 253,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamesong/pseuds/Flamesong, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller
Summary: Welcome to Mantle. Home to operations of the Schnee Dust Company, known for doing nearly anything that turns a profit, and home as well to its many mine workers. Struggling under backbreaking conditions and predatory debt lending, the faunus could use all the help they can get... and once upon a time, there was a group who lifted them all up together, led by the enigmatic Vox Faunus.But Vox Faunus is gone. And without their shared voice, the repression has been brutal. Eudico remains, once the face beneath the mask, but in this new world since the Fall of Beacon, there's not much more she can do. Not unless things start changing for the better, for once. Not unless the right spark lands to ignite a new passion in her weary bones.Things are certainly changing, in some way or another. Maybe this will be the day.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna/Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Eudico/Ticker, Flynt Coal & Neon Katt, Jaune Arc/Lie Ren, Joanna Greenleaf/Robyn Hill/May Marigold/Fiona Thyme, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Robyn Hill/Margulis, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee, Sienna Khan/Willow Schnee, Weiss Schnee/Yang Xiao Long
Series: Under a Broken Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675519
Comments: 634
Kudos: 94
Collections: Crossover Favorites





	1. Character Short: Eudico Bruin

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is a crossover/AU/whatever you want to call it! Yes, the regular cast of RWBY will be appearing starting after the prologue! But first: the prologue.
> 
> Warframe people: I really, _really_ recommend watching RWBY as this diverges from show canon during Volume 7 and will have spoilers for the earlier volumes. Consider this your warning if you don't want to be spoiled. Otherwise, have fun!
> 
> RWBY people: there will be canon divergence, gay, and lots of what seem like OCs. They're not OCs. They're from Warframe, which I also highly recommend.

They’ll say it was an accident. They always do, regardless of whether it is in fact an accident or something far more purposeful. Perhaps only those that were closest to what happened will ever know the truth. Unfortunately, gravity dust is a potent force, and a volatile one, and the specifics of what happened involving it will be forever obscured due to the explosion and subsequent cave-in of much of the nearby mines.

It says something about Eudico’s life that, upon coming to half-buried in rubble, her first thought is that this had better not get in the way of girls night. Then the pain kicks in. Everything hurts, but everything hurts more to move. For a few precious moments, she doesn’t.

Then it registers that she’s _half-buried in rubble_ and she forces herself to, breathing hard and heavy. She pushes up, pitches forward. Falls again, tries to activate her aura to take the fall.

She manages to break her fall with an arm. Something breaks. Probably her. She can taste blood, and when she reaches for her semblance, her aura, anything—it’s shot.

She pushes herself up again, more carefully this time. Stumbles to the nearest shaft wall and leans on it far too much for comfort, but enough that she doesn’t fall over this time.

Cave-in. There had to be a cave-in. Somewhere nearby, and she was caught in it, and the only reason she’s _alive_ is her aura. Which is down.

Eudico takes a deep breath. Lets it out. Shaking hands fumble for her scroll. Somehow, it’s in better shape than she is. Aura’s starting to regenerate, but it won’t be enough for anything for a while. Definitely not her semblance. Which means nothing from Vox Faunus.

Well, it means no _broadcasts_ from Vox Faunus. But Eudico isn’t about to sit by and do nothing. Signal’s always shit in the mines, but she can’t just sit idly by and do nothing when… there’s a cave-in. People always, _always_ die in cave-ins, and it’s never the supervisors.

Admittedly, she’s not exactly sitting idly by. She’s not sure she can walk.

Still. No time to waste. Eudico scrolls down her contact list, taps on one near the bottom with no picture, no identifying information save two words: The Business.

“Biz. How bad is it?” She asks, forgetting to hide her exhaustion. She leans harder on the wall, exhales slowly, puts her other hand on her side. Aura’s damn useful when it comes to cave-ins and injuries in general, very common on the job here—which is why they’d been trying to _teach more people how to use it, dammit!_ —but it’s slow.

Vox is going to stay quiet for a few more hours. Then, Vox is going to have some things to say.

“Eudico? That _is_ you, correct?” Eudico makes a noise of affirmation. “Glad to hear it. Where are you? Nobody has been able to get you since the blast. We thought you were caught in it.”

Eudico glances up and down the tunnel, takes note of the impassable rubble she crawled out of at one end and a dangerously bent support holding up the other, and audibly winces.

“I was. I’ll live. We need to find any survivors, and fast. Group up…” She pulls up the Official SDC Mine Map, no longer accurate, and checks her own position. “I’m in shaft twelve currently, just over a mile in. Bring Rudy and anyone else you can find. Hurry. I can’t do much on my own.”

“I can hear that.”

And Eudico can hear the disapproval in his words. “I’m _fine_ , Biz. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll stop worrying when I can clearly see you are fine, and I strongly suspect you are _not_. Sit down. Pay attention.”

“Consider my attention paid,” Eudico says wryly, but takes a seat against the wall anyway.

A quiet ping signifies the addition of others to the call. Eudico checks to see who. Rudy and Little Duck—good, they’re both okay. Duck’s semblance isn’t exactly useful in search and rescue, but she’s fast and quiet and if nothing else, she can scout out what the company’s doing. Rudy, on the other hand, will be invaluable in getting past debris, or enforcers if it comes to that.

(Eudico would like to think it won’t come to that. She would really, _really_ like to think that the illustrious Schnee Dust Company would send people in to help after an accident of this magnitude. Even not sending anyone at all would be better. But, all things considered: Jacques Schnee will definitely be sending enforcers in to check how badly this impacted his precious profits, and after something like this he won’t have told them to be nice.)

“Hey, Eudi’s not dead, halle-fucking-lujah! Here I was thinking you’d left us in the lurch, mate!”

That’s definitely, unmistakably Little Duck, although in the mines she goes by another name. Untouchable thorn in Schnee’s side by night, unremarkable mine worker by day, and unreasonably sleep-deprived all the damn time. Also uncharacteristically worried, not that you’d know it unless you took into account how long she normally takes to pick up.

“Eudico Bruin. It’s been three. Bloody. Hours. Where have you _been._ ”

And that would be Rudy, living up to her old nickname. Eudico can almost picture her glaring at her scroll, thoroughly done with everyone’s bullshit as per usual, and thoroughly justified in being so. Especially now, because by now she’s gotten an idea of how bad this cave-in is.

Gravity dust is a potent force, and a volatile one. When it’s crystallized, it’s even worse. There’s a reason only the most experienced workers have permission to handle it. If one crystal blows, all the others in the area blow.

Which explains how, despite being miles from any area with a high concentration of gravity dust, she’d _still_ been caught in the resulting cave-in. There aren’t going to be many survivors. There might not be _any_ survivors.

But it goes against everything Vox Faunus stands for not to look.

“Came to in a pile of rubble five minutes ago. You can guess why.” Despite everything—she’s not sure she _can_ stand now, and while her aura’s starting to come back it’s nowhere near what it needs to be—she laughs. It’s not a humor-filled one. “The one good thing about them tracking us: we can use that for things like this. Biz, Rudy, I need you here. D, can we still get into their network?”

“We’ll find out soon!” Duck says _far_ too cheerfully.

“That really doesn’t help right now.”

“If I can’t, I’ll climb the CCT Tower again and plug in directly. Everyone’s focused on the big fucking explosion at the moment, I could do it with my hands tied behind my back.”

“Please do _not_ climb Atlas Tower with your hands tied behind your back,” Biz mutters. He goes unheard or at least unacknowledged by her.

“I’ll do a backflip if I fall off!”

“As amusing a mental image as that is, I’m with Biz on this one,” Eudico cuts in. “If it comes to that, be careful.”

“Right. Going dark. Be lucky.”

* * *

They had not been lucky. Eudico had _thought_ things couldn’t get any worse when Cordovin showed up. Things had gotten worse. So, _so_ much worse.

But they’re looking up now, almost. She’s actually gotten Duck and Biz to speak to each other again, not an easy feat. And… they’ve lost a lot of people. The Zuuds, Thursby’s folks, Amitola and her wife… their daughter disappeared after the accident and its aftermath. Eudico tries not to think of what might have happened to Ilia.

They’ve lost a lot of people. But they’re still here, they’re still standing, and they’re still fighting. Vox Faunus is still making a real difference. So here they are, a full year later. Grappling with the grief of living and doing their best to honor those they’ve lost.

Then the news comes on, and there’s nothing Eudico can do but watch in horror. For security purposes, the Altesian military had kept everything under wraps until it was under control. And even now, the media is clearly underreporting what happened to avoid the Grimm.

They’re already calling it the Paladin Incident. Which: alright. It’s an incident that involved an Atlesian Paladin, she’ll give them that. But people are dead. Innocent people are dead, both humans and faunus. Although, from the panicked looks she’s getting from people trying to call their friends and family, it’s skewed heavily one way.

The Paladin had gone rampant in Atlas, killing some high-and-mighty scientist up there in the process. That, Eudico has no issue with, he sounded like an asshole. Unfortunately, when confronted…

It jumped down to Mantle. And now a sizable chunk of the city is burning. Grimm alarms aren’t sounding, but it’s only a matter of time. 

“The extremist terrorist group known as Vox Faunus is thought to be responsible for this,” the news anchor says with no small amount of disdain. “Perhaps the military will finally deal with them.”

There are many, _many_ things Eudico would like to say to that particular news anchor, none of which are nice. But she doesn’t. Not as herself, and not as the voice of the faunus she so foolishly claimed to be. Instead, she pays for her drink, and leaves.

Vox Faunus is dissolved that night. It shouldn’t have been easy to give up.

* * *

As one of a few floor bosses in the Schnee Dust Company, Eudico often has to deal with new employee orientation. Or, as a certain old friend with a better sense of humor called it, _tell-them-to-get-the-fuck-out-while-they-still-can day._

The truth is that nobody gets out of the SDC unless it’s in the blissful void of death. Even Little Duck still works here, under the name nobody can connect to her. At least, Eudico’s pretty sure she still works here. They haven’t spoken in months.

Anyway: orientation. She skims the list, looking for any familiar names. Why, she doesn’t know—until she sees one she recognizes. She looks again, squints, pinches herself for good measure.

Rudy Zuud died two years ago. So did her sisters. So did a sizable amount of Vox Faunus. Vox Faunus too is dead, and is going to stay that way. But somehow, inexplicably, _Rudy Zuud_ is on the list of new employees. She’s also _last_ on the list of new employees, because it’s ordered alphabetically by surname.

Works for Eudico—that means she’ll be able to talk to Rudy semi-privately before sending her out. If this is the Rudy she thinks this is. Could be a distant cousin with the same name, but… she really, really hopes this is Rudy. If only just to know that’s one less death she caused.

Even so, she does make sure to pay attention to the other new hires, makes sure to warn them about what not to do and to keep their heads down. But she does rush things, perhaps, a bit more than they should be rushed.

And then, finally, Rudy Zuud walks in, and it’s unmistakably her. But it’s unmistakably not her, too.

“Before you ask: no,” Rudy says with no small amount of bitterness.

“I didn’t ask you anything yet.”

“Whatever you want to ask, I’m _not fucking answering._ Got it?”

“I—” Eudico shakes her head. “Rudy, what happened to you? We all thought you were dead! Where’s—”

“What part of _not answering_ are you not getting? Just put me back in the system, dammit. You’re always short-short in the gravity dust sector. Put me in there.”

Eudico can’t stop herself from staring this time, although now it’s less out of the shock of a dead woman walking in and more of the shock of someone, _anyone_ willingly going to mine gravity dust.

“You’re sure?”

“Do I look like I’m not?”

“You look like you are.” Eudico marks her down on the list, then takes a deep breath and tries to meet Rudy’s gaze again. She can’t hold it for more than a few moments. “You’re good to go and cleared for gravity duty. And I—understand if you hate me. I’d hate me too. But I’m glad you’re alive.”

Rudy doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns and leaves. With the echo of mining equipment and shouting workers coming from further down the corridor, it’s hard to hear anything after a certain distance.

But Eudico could swear she hears, quietly, “I’m not.”

* * *

Three years since the Accident.

Two years since the Incident.

One year since Zuud came back. 

And here Eudico is, nursing the strongest alcohol she can afford in the corner of the same bar that Vox Faunus, the organization, used to frequent. Although Vox Faunus, the person, used to frequent it too.

She still does. She’s just not Vox anymore. Vox, the person and the organization, is dead. And she’s going to stop thinking about them both right now. Right… fucking… now.

She can’t.

Eudico shakes her head, takes a bigger gulp of whatever it is she’s drinking than she should.

* * *

_Am I an alcoholic,_ she types into the search bar of her scroll. Her finger hovers over the search button before hitting the backspace key.

 _How to tell if you’re an alcoholic,_ she tries instead.

Backspace.

 _Am I drinking too much_ —backspace.

 _How much drinking is too much drinking_ —backspace.

_Is drinking a healthy coping mechanism?_

Backspace. She knows the answer to that one, and yet here the fuck she is, drinking her voiddamned life away. It’s almost funny, except it’s not. And it’s not like she doesn’t know how this shit ends. It’s not like she doesn’t _know_ she’s been spiraling downward ever since…

She grips the bottle tighter and forces herself to think of other things. Like… work! Shitty as ever. But nobody’s died this week, which might be some kind of record and is definitely better luck than anyone’s been having lately. Nothing’s gotten significantly better in ages. Times like these, she almost wishes—

Nope, nope, _nope_. Not going there. Eudico needs to think about something else. Friends? Family? Family’s long gone so that’s not an option.

Friends… she hasn’t talked to Biz or LD in years and she knows damn well they haven’t been talking to each other. They’d want to talk to her even less. Zuud… she misses Zuud. She misses her sisters but she really, _really_ misses Rudy.

Lately, her only friend is the bottle, and that one’s a really, really shitty one.

“You, Eudi, are a fucking _mess,_ ” she mumbles to herself, and it’s true. 

Except someone slides into the seat across from her. She’d half forgotten that this was technically a table for two, except nobody wanted to sit with the alcoholic faunus, obviously. Except here’s somebody, grinning nervously and looking over her shoulder. Like she’s being… chased.

“Hello, there, love! In just a spot of trouble, mind helping me cover for it?” She offers Eudico a grin. “Name’s Ticker, you look vaguely familiar, and unless those are gloves you’re wearing I’m pretty sure you’re faunus too. Help a girl out?”

Eudico really, _really_ should say no. She sighs. 

“Eudico. What’s going on and why should I help you?”

“Eudi—ohhh, void, you’re _that_ Eudico aren’t you? In that case, I’ll just be on my way. But before I am,” Ticker’s gaze softens some. “Is everything alright?”

“Honestly? No. Not at all.” She forces herself to grin back, even though Ticker’s own is long-gone at this point. “Thanks for asking. Listen—if you need an alibi for something, I don’t mind saying you’ve been here for an hour. I’d just like to know what it is first.”

She shouldn’t be saying this. She shouldn’t be doing this. But—what the hell, she needs a change, and Ticker looks so, so hopeful. Then she grins confidently.

“Hoped you’d say that. Can spot an ambidexter a mile away, and love? You ain’t it. So: debt forgiveness. I _may_ have wiped some records involving prosthetic loans and while I couldn’t get much before I was knocked out of the system, apparently that’s enough to piss off Old Man Schneezy. What _isn’t_ enough to piss off Old Man Schneezy?”

Eudico chuckles wryly to herself. “You can say _that_ again.”

“What isn’t enough to piss off Old Man Schneezy? Honestly. Just about _anything_ is. So: I don’t know you, you don’t know me, but somehow I get the feel that’s not your first bottle. Anything I can do to help? Or just talking, if you need a distraction.”

She almost, _almost_ tells her about Vox. Almost. But she can’t, for several fairly obvious reasons. So instead, she says, “I’ll take you up on the talking.”

“Alright. What do you want to talk about?”

Ticker rests her chin on a hand and an elbow on the table, then looks at Eudico expectantly. She’s got dark eyes and a dark beanie, and that grin is infectious.

“Paws!” Eudico blurts. “You mentioned my hands. I’ve got paws, sort of. Still have opposable thumbs, thank the void, that would be _hell_ otherwise. But I never need gloves, so that’s nice.”

She raises a hand, wiggles her fingers and waves.

“And toe beans,” Ticker notes. “Bear faunus, or…?”

“Bear faunus, yeah. You?”

Ticker grins. “I’m a frog. Pass me that bottlecap real quick?”

Eudico does. Ticker puts it on the outstretched palm of her other hand, lifts it up. In a quick motion, she flips her hand over. The bottlecap doesn’t fall off.

“Sticky fingers,” Ticker continues cheerfully. “And feet, actually. Usually I’m wearing shoes. Have to, love, it’s _cold_ outside.”

She blinks, and it’s then that the bottlecap falls. It lands at a weird angle, skitters off the edge of the table and onto the floor.

“I’ll get it,” Eudico says, and scoots over to do so. She leans over, picks it up, and moves to scoot back onto her seat.

A metallic glint in the corner of her eye catches her attention. She risks a glance. It pays off: soldiers. Soldiers who are coming this way. Soldiers who haven’t seen Ticker yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

Well fuck. She does settle back into her seat this time, looks to Ticker. Something must show on her face because Ticker asks, quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“I have an idea,” Eudico replies. “Play along.”

Maybe it’s the fact that if the soldiers find her here with Ticker, they’ll look into her background, too. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s definitely had too many drinks. Maybe it’s the fact that Ticker’s actually fairly cute.

Eudico just leans across the table and, before she can talk herself out of it—kisses her. Ticker kisses back. More importantly, it works, because by the time they break apart the soldiers are gone.

“Soldiers,” Eudico says in explanation. “You didn’t tell me you pissed off the military.”

“Oh, got it, got it.” Ticker grins wryly. “And here I was about to ask you to treat me to dinner first.”

Eudico smiles back, despite herself. “You should get going. They might come back.”

* * *

It’s five years after the Accident when Beacon Tower falls and all long-range communication falls with it. It’s four years after the Incident when a disillusioned graduate of Atlas Academy and her band of Happy Huntresses take on the role of Mantle’s protectors. It’s three years after Zuud’s return when Atlas closes its borders.

It’s one year after Eudico meets Ticker that she truly considers, for the first time, bringing back Vox Faunus. But we haven’t quite gotten there yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art in this chapter by the awesome TesseractTown who can be found on Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/tesseracttown), she's a great artist and writer herself and she's got commissions open as of Episode 8's posting! Go give her some love!
> 
> As for what the art is _of_? Why, Ticker and Eudico, of course. (In this AU, anyway. They're gay keep scrolling.)


	2. Part 1 Episode 1: The City Below

Across the darkened northern skies of Solitas, an Atlesian ship flies, seemingly veiled from view by the sheer amount of aerial activity in and around Atlas. What little cover this ship and its passengers has in cloud cover and obscurity, however, won’t last long—especially not once they pull into Atlas. The city in the clouds strikes an imposing figure, and one swarming with military activity.

As the group of teenagers and their less-than-responsible chaperones watch Atlas grow bigger and bigger in the front window, the ship radio crackles to life. All eyes go to it—robotic replacements, in their pilot’s case.

“Manta Five-One, welcome home. Please continue your approach to Atlas Docking Bay Omega-Twelve. A security team will meet you there. Over.”

In the pilot seat, Maria raps the radio with her knuckles. Satisfied it’s off, she returns most of her attention to flying the plane. Most, but not all.

Nobody else speaks. So, one Maria Calavera, former legendary huntress and current cynical old lady, says, “You lot didn’t think through what would happen once we _got_ to Atlas, did you?”

“Of course we did!” Yang protests. Looks from nearly everyone else including her uncle, younger sister, and other teammates turn her ill-placed confidence into a sheepish grin, and she admits, “Okay, maybe we didn’t. But we’ll be fine, we made it this far and once we’ve touched down, it’s not like they’ll shoot us out of the sky. The security team will just take us to Ironwood, which is exactly where we want to go! Right?”

“If you were on an Atlas security team, and a ship you thought was supposed to contain me and a _military_ pilot contained no pilot, the missing Schnee heiress, and _several_ unauthorized people?” Weiss shakes her head. “They won’t care who Qrow is or Maria was, or that we’re barely adults. We’ll be lucky if Ironwood visits us in prison. We’ll be lucky if we make it _to_ prison.”

“Your sister, Winter,” Ruby tries hopefully. “Can you get through to her? Maybe she can meet us.”

Weiss doesn’t look optimistic, but she pulls out her scroll anyway. “I can try. I hope we’re in range.”

“Much as I dislike dealing with your sister, you do have a point,” Qrow mutters. “Winter’s our best bet at not touching down right into trouble. If we can’t get ahold of her—what are we doing.”

Three of the four members of Team RWBY exchange looks with each other silently. Nobody offers any options, although Blake looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t. Their fourth member, Weiss, is holding her scroll to her ear and mumbling angrily under her breath.

The three remaining members of Team JNPR aren’t much help, either. Jaune is pacing in the back of the ship, a hand on his sheathed sword and a scowl on his face. Ren is fiddling with StormFlower, one pistol in his lap and the second carefully aimed at the floor. Nora has her hands pressed against the glass of a side window, looking out with an unreadable expression.

The only other adult besides Maria, Qrow, is sitting in the pilot’s seat and thinking. Whatever he’s thinking about, he isn’t talking. The other kid, Oscar, is sitting in the back, head in his hands. Being disheartened about a situation like this is perfectly normal, of course, but _come on_.

Maria sighs. She likes these kids, she really does, but sometimes she’s convinced there’s not a braincell between the lot of them. “If nobody else has any ideas—”

“Mantle,” Qrow says. “If Jimmy’s determined to protect Atlas and the Relic of Creation, he’ll have to pull back some from Mantle and the rest of the kingdom. It’ll be easier to go unnoticed there.”

“Looks like we have to.” Weiss glares at her scroll. “Either it’s not a good signal, or she’s not picking up. And Winter would pick up.”

“To Mantle!” Ruby cheers, pumping a fist. “Actually—it works out. If we can disappear into Mantle, we’ll have time to figure out the plan.”

“The plan that we should have figured out ahead of time?” Blake asks wryly.

“Yeah, that one.” Nora turns away from the glass. “Maria, take us away!”

“Away from the rest of the fleet? Already done.” Maria smiles. “I’ll take us closer to Mantle, see if I can find a good place to land. And, more importantly, an _inconspicuous_ place to land.”

The radio crackles back to life. Even though they’re quite certain at this point that their end is muted, everyone still goes silent. Everyone who wasn’t already silent, that is.

“Manta Five-One. We’ve noticed a detour in your route. You are to make your way to Docking Bay Omega-Twelve immediately. Do you copy? Over.”

They copy all right, but nobody’s going to tell that radio operator as much. They probably already suspect something’s wrong, if they don’t already know. Which they probably do! Maria wouldn’t put it past that she-devil Cordo to call ahead. 

_Blah blah blah, glory to Atlas, blah blah blah, there’s a group of ruffians coming in on a stolen ship! They helped protect Argus but you won’t catch me admitting it! No, I protected them all by myself with the GLORY OF ATLAS!_

“Could we even go to, what was it, Docking Bay Twelve?” Nora asks. “I mean, does anyone even know where that is?”

“I’m guessing everyone’s enthusiasm for staying quiet means that’s a solid no,” Qrow replies. “No from me, too. Unless Maria happens to know.”

“Even if I wanted to take us in there, which I absolutely do _not_ by the way and you all should know that already, I’m not sure where it is either. Yes, my ‘eyes’ can connect to the _plane’s_ computer, but this thing doesn’t come with a map. You lot are going to have to tell me where we’re going.”

“Down, for a start.” Yang frowns, grips the back of the copilot seat harder. “Possibly not just literally. Is that Ironwood?”

The figure projected onto the screen on one side of a nearby tower is, undoubtedly, one General James Ironwood of the Atlesian Military and headmaster of Atlas Academy. Apparently he grew a beard. As their ship flies past, most eyes go to Ironwood, and the broadcast most likely being replayed.

“Many have described these as uncertain times,” Ironwood announces, “and while that may be the case for the rest of the world, I can tell you what is certain. The kingdom of Atlas will remain strong, and it will remain safe. That is my promise.”

“Looks like him. Sounds like him.” Weiss looks back down at her scroll. “I’m going to keep trying to get Winter.”

“He looks... “ Yang winces.

“Tired,” Ruby supplies.

“Yeah. Definitely. Not that we aren’t all pretty tired. And somehow, I doubt Ozpin told him everything.”

Oscar pauses his moping for all of two seconds, just to say, “He didn’t. Not even close.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Maria mutters. “I never even met the guy before all this and at this point, I’m glad I didn’t. Or I want to slap him. One of the two.”

“He’s not here. Couldn’t slap him if you wanted to.”

Qrow’s gaze finds something in the street below. His face falls, not that it was the picture of happiness to begin with. “James, what have you been doing?”

There’s soldiers in the streets. Or possibly robots, it’s hard to tell from this high up. A child in dirty clothes throws a rock at a surveillance drone, then ducks behind a wall with their friend. All in all, Mantle does not look like it’s in good shape currently, although Maria’s not sure it was the last time she was here, either.

The radio crackles to life a third time. Maria whacks it harder. Unlike the radio operator, the ship’s radio takes the hint.

“We’re running out of time, kids. Time to make a decision.”

“There.” 

Qrow leans forward in his seat and points. There’s a lonely street culminating in a dead-end, and it looks _just_ big enough for the ship to fit. If not, it’s not like they’ll be using it again anytime soon.

Maria shrugs. “Alrighty. Taking us in now, unless anyone has any objections?”

“Not really an objection, but…” Blake comes forward some, leans her arms on the back of the pilot seat as she looks out into the currently clear sky. “We’re landing in the middle of Mantle, and they know we’re landing _somewhere_ here. We might as well make it difficult for them.”

“How so?”

Blake doesn’t answer Maria directly at first. Instead, she turns back to where Weiss is attempting to ring her sister a fourth time, and asks, “How likely is it that your father is still smuggling out his dust exports, closed borders and all?”

Weiss looks up from a fourth failed attempt. “I’d be surprised if he _wasn’t_. Why?”

Blake visibly perks up, starting with her more visible set of ears. “He’ll have some way to make sure Ironwood is looking the other way. If we bring down the ship closer to the mines, it’s possible we can make the military think we’re part of his smuggling operation and leave us alone. That gives us time to figure out how we’re going to get to Ironwood.”

“My father has a private security force. They’ll know we’re not working for him.”

“Maybe. But if it’s that or the military, I’m willing to take a chance. And…” Blake looks to Yang. Something inaudible passes between them. “The Atlas branch of the White Fang was always small, but they might be willing to help us.”

“Doubt they know about Sienna Khan’s death. Or what’s even going on with the White Fang.” Yang shrugs. “They would probably appreciate news.”

“I’m going to pretend I have any idea of what you’re talking about,” Maria cuts in. “Are we landing on the outskirts of the city or not?”

In the end, the kids do still look to Qrow for the final say. He looks thoroughly annoyed about that fact. Eventually, he throws his hands up and says, “What the hell, sure. As long as we can ditch the ship, get lost in Mantle, and buy ourselves some time.”

* * *

“I don’t like this place,” Qrow mutters. 

He’s taken the lead of the group, partially due to being the second-oldest individual present and the oldest being quite happy to take up the rear, and partially due to his semblance. His semblance is also, not coincidentally, the reason why he’s distanced himself slightly from the rest of the group. Bad luck, after all, is only useful when it applies specifically to your enemies.

Not that they’ll necessarily run into any enemies, of course. But Qrow hasn’t lasted this long by hoping for the best. Besides, these streets are deserted. Which should be good, but he’s paranoid, and the streets are _too_ quiet, _too_ deserted.

“You say that like anyone does,” Oscar replies. 

Qrow glances back, tries to decide whether he’s too close or not. Oscar’s probably not far enough away for his semblance _not_ to royally fuck things up. So it’s either tell him to move further back or the opposite.

Qrow makes his decision.

“What the hell, pipsqueak, get up here. I can barely hear you.”

That, and maybe he’d like to have a quiet conversation with him away from everyone else’s ears. Judging by the look in his eyes as Oscar jogs up beside him, he might be well aware of this already, but he doesn’t comment on that yet.

Instead, he says, “You’re not worried about your semblance?”

“Course I am. I _always_ am. But if something goes wrong, just hightail it to the rest of the group.” Qrow chuckles.

“So.”

Qrow sobers up. Metaphorically, that is. Physically, he’s been sober for some time and he’s already regretting it. 

“So,” Qrow agrees. “What’s up? Oz bothering you?”

“No,” Oscar says, a little too quickly. He winces, and more emphatically this time, repeats, “No. He’s not. That’s the problem. He’s _not_ bothering me. He’s not doing anything. I’m not even sure if he’s still here. I haven’t heard anything since Argus.”

“That might not be as bad as everyone thinks. We know what he was hiding from us, and while I understand _some_ secrecy, some things…”

Most notably: that according to the Relic of Knowledge, Salem _can’t be killed._ Would have been nice to know, oh, _decades ago._ He almost understands Raven. Almost.

“It’s definitely not as bad as everyone thinks. I’m… starting to think it might not be bad at all.”

“You’re not the only one,” Qrow huffs. “But that can’t be why you wanted to talk to me.”

“It’s part of it. It’s… okay. I said I wasn’t sure if he was still here. He’s still here. And eventually, he’ll _be_ me and I don’t know how to stop it, I don’t know if I _want_ to stop it because when we meet Ironwood, everyone’s going to be more worried about him than me. But I don’t want to just disappear.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I—when Ozpin first… moved in, he accessed my memories. I… didn’t really do that after the train crash so much as know what he was thinking at the moment. On the plane, I tried to recall some of his. I didn’t get much. But there’s… something, in Atlas. Or from Atlas. Some kind of machine that can take one person’s aura and transfer it to another. And—that girl that... died in the Vytal Festival, she was a robot, with aura.”

Oscar takes a deep breath and says, “Maybe this wouldn’t work. But maybe he could be transferred to… some kind of robot body. And then I wouldn’t disappear, I could just… be me again.”

“I’m going to tell you now, I _really_ don’t know much about technology outside the stuff I use on a daily basis. But that could work. We’d just need to get Jimmy to agree to it.” 

Qrow pauses briefly, scanning the area—still nothing, and they’re almost to the building Blake said was a White Fang safehouse. This is too easy. But he won’t be caught complaining about it.

“You’re not worried about digging around through his side of things?”

Oscar’s lack of an immediate answer is answer enough. Even so, Qrow doesn’t speak again either. Instead, he keeps walking, a hand on Harbinger, and glances back. They haven’t lost anyone. (Not that he thought they would have.)

There’s Yang and Blake, talking to each other and both blushing furiously, and brothers help him, for someone so loud and proud, Yang _somehow_ hasn’t picked up on anything. Neither has Blake. They really, _really_ need an intervention and Qrow’s surprised Ruby hasn’t staged one yet.

Or, maybe that’s what she’s giggling with Weiss over, not too far behind them. Nora’s currently talking her teammates’ ears off, and Maria’s taking up the rear.

So far, so good. Although Maria did have a point, shortly after ditching the plane and spreading out some: none of them are inconspicuous exactly. But they do have a plan: get to that White Fang safehouse. Should be deserted, and if not, they’ve got Blake.

Everyone’s staying fairly quiet, and the streets are, too. But the streets are too quiet. Qrow can still hear the low murmur of conversation coming from behind him, but that’s it. There’s no military surveillance here, and that shouldn’t unnerve him as much as it does.

They’re almost there. With that in mind, Qrow lets his grip on Harbinger slacken, lets his hand drift away from it. Even so, he looks back one more time.

Consequently, he sees Maria visibly stiffen, moments before she yells, _“SCATTER!”_

Qrow doesn’t have to be told twice. He books it, feet pounding on the street as he racks his brain for what the building had looked like. White building—or was it a grey one? With something like _Cool Dust_ as the name. Long since out of business thanks to, what else, Weiss’ unscrupulous bastard of a father.

Whatever it is, odds are they won’t be able to get in without Blake, at least not quickly. So when Qrow turns a corner and sees a grey building with a sign reading _Coal Dust_ and boarded up windows, he doesn’t beeline for the front door. Instead, he beelines for a dumpster.

He grimaces, lifts the lid, and leaps in. He closes the lid behind him, lies down some to do so, and even then he still has to hold the lid shut and press his back into literal garbage. There’s nobody else here, but that isn’t going to stop him from muttering, “This fucking _stinks._ ”

Then it occurs to him what he just said. Qrow considers this, and just _sighs_. The kids, and especially Yang, are rubbing off on him.

They’ll be fine. He won’t be around to fuck up their escapes, after all.

* * *

A couple blocks away, half of Team RWBY, one Yang Xiao Long and one Weiss Schnee, are currently running like hell and being shot at. For a few moments, Yang turns and runs backwards. She starts to fall behind, then uses her gauntlets to propel herself back.

“There’s at least five of them, and they look like huntsmen,” Yang reports. “Guessing these are who you were worried about?”

“These goons specifically, no. I don’t know what happens in other kingdoms when people don’t get into a secondary academy, but in Atlas, they get recruited here. Not a lot of officially licensed huntsmen, but somehow Father’s people never get caught.”

“Why am I not surprised. More I hear about your father, more I hate him. And I already hated him!”

“You’re far from being the only one.” They run in silence for a time. Weiss glances over her shoulder and reports, grimly, “They’re getting closer. We need to lose them.”

“Somehow. Don’t suppose we can just fight them off?”

“Short answer, no.” Weiss increases her pace, Myrternaster swinging merrily at her hip. “Long answer, they’re kitted out specifically to subdue people who fight back. And, you know, Grimm. But you see a lot less of that. Easy for accidents to happen. Easy to call things that aren’t accidents exactly that.”

“You know what? Forget Salem, let’s fight your father. I know Blake’s with m—” It occurs to her, suddenly, that she’s only with Weiss currently. The other half of Team RWBY and everyone else ran off in different directions. Yang skids to a stop. “Shit, where’s Blake? _BLAKE!_ ”

Weiss audibly groans as she turns back, grabs Yang’s arm, and pulls hard. “She’s fine, everyone will be fine, come _on!_ If they can outrun some unlicensed huntsmen, we can outrun some unlicensed huntsmen who can’t even aim.”

“Right. Let’s go!”

The girls keep running, faster now, sprinting even. Weiss clearly knows these streets better than Yang does, so when she ducks into an alleyway, Yang follows. Single-file now, they race past doorway after doorway, determined to come back onto the main street before their pursuers have the bright idea to go around.

Finally, Weiss dashes out into the open road—and straight into the broad side of a truck.

* * *

In nearly the opposite direction, three more girls are sprinting full-tilt down a different road, pursued by goons who have almost comically terrible aim. The other half of Team RWBY, Ruby Rose and Blake Belladonna—as well as one Nora Valkyrie formerly of Team JNPR—aren’t really sure where they’re going. With the notable exception of Blake, but even she knows better than to lead their pursuers right to a White Fang hideout, where the others may or may not have already gotten to and where there may or may not be actual operatives who haven’t gotten any news since the Fall of Beacon.

So, they’re running, as far and as fast away from the others as they can. Blake would like to think they can outpace them, she really would. With her semblance, Ruby alone probably _could_ outpace them, but neither Blake nor Nora have that luxury.

Unless…

“Ruby,” Blake barks. “Your semblance—can you carry others with you?”

Ruby visibly lights up. “Yes!” Then her face falls. “But actually no. Not others, plural. One of you, I definitely can. Otherwise… it’ll get tricky.”

“Worth a shot!” Nora laughs as a shot passes _far_ too close to her for comfort. “Pun not intended, but greatly appreciated!”

Their aim’s getting better, Blake notices. But they shouldn’t be getting better. Schnee’s men should be getting more tired, and less accurate. Or, possibly, they’re not the ones getting tired at all.

More reasons why they have to change something, or they’ll be caught. They’ll be caught, and—Blake knows they had to have seen her cat ears. For the second time, she regrets no longer hiding them. And then she hates herself for regretting that, for just—running away all over again.

But she’s not alone. She might still be running away, but she’s with her friends. Some of her friends. The others have to be okay, and if they’re not she can worry about that after she and Ruby and Nora are out of harm’s way.

“We need to do something soon,” Blake says. “Whether it’s that or something else, we’re out of time.”

Ruby nods. She grabs Blake’s arm with her left hand, Nora’s with her right, and—moves. Zooms. Flies, even. On the outside, Ruby becomes a red flurry of trailing rose petals, carrying a black flurry and a pink flurry with her. On the inside—Blake can’t quite describe what happens. Just that she is one moment, and the next she isn’t.

Without warning, a lone, well-aimed gunshot rings out, and everyone is themselves again a mere few yards away from where they started. Ruby nearly falls over as her aura flickers and dies. Nora, hands on her knees, empties the contents of her stomach onto the pavement.

And Blake? Blake’s arguably a little queasy, but—she could run. She could run, and leave her friends to a fate unknown. Instead, she does run. She just runs towards them instead. In a quick motion, she pulls Ruby up by her hood, and…

They’re too close. They’re far, _far_ too close. Ruby’s aura is down, Nora’s throwing up what’s probably the remnants of Oscar’s casserole skills, and Blake can’t take on six heavily armed people with _aura_ when she’s got others to protect, too.

So, she takes a slow step forward, then another. Forces the hand she has on Gambol Shroud to fall back to a neutral position. Stares the masked man with a sniper rifle down.

“Why are you chasing us?” Blake tries, despite every bone in her body screaming for her to run. Maybe, just _maybe_ , she can buy them some time. Enough to get out of this.

* * *

“We’ve lost them,” Maria reports, earning a confused look from Jaune. She slows to a walk. Ren looks at Jaune, shrugs, and they follow suit. “There were only eleven of them. You _did_ see how many were chasing your friends, correct? Five after one group, six after another.”

“I didn’t see where Oscar or Qrow went,” Jaune says. “But we have to—”

“Nope.”

“—help the others—”

“Nope.”

“—get away!”

“Absolutely not.” Maria audibly tsks. “The others can handle themselves, which is why we will be getting to a more populated, less suspicious area and regrouping later.”

“There were a _lot of_ —”

“We?” Ren asks, which is arguably a more important question at the moment.

“Yes, _we_ ,” Maria replies. For a few moments, the only nearby sound is the audible _tap-tap-tap_ of her walking stick. “I got myself into this when I stayed on the interesting side of the train. And considering that neither of you have been to Atlas before, if the kids _do_ get themselves captured, they’ll need _someone_ to bail them out.”

Jaune opens his mouth to argue. He shuts it.

“That’s not all. Is it?”

Maria laughs. “Perceptive. Well, it’s damn obvious at this point who’s responsible for me losing my eyes. I stick with you, the Grimm Reaper might yet be avenged. One way or another.”

“But Salem can’t be killed,” Jaune points out. “At least, that’s what you said the lamp said.”

“Not me specifically, and the… Relic, was it? Told _Ozpin_ that he, specifically, couldn’t kill Salem. It’s entirely possible that someone else could. Even if there truly is no way to destroy her, there _are_ other ways to victory than the obvious.”

“Like what?”

“I’m talking in general, not specifically for this. But have you ever heard the saying ‘if you can’t beat them, join them?’”

Too soon. Jaune audibly winces. Ren levels a silent, furious glare at her.

“Right. Bad example, not sure what I brought up and I don’t want to know,” Maria amends. “Point is, there’s options. Take a look at her side of things. No matter how many people she kills, she’ll always have at least one enemy. If she wanted to deal with Ozpin permanently, she would have to do something other than kill him, because in a few years he’d turn back up again. Neither of them can kill the other. Anyway: that’s my two cents, take it or leave it, and let me do the talking.”

Before either of them can ask about that last part, they have company. Specifically, three men donning what looks suspiciously like off-brand Atlesian military gear branded with the SDC logo, all of whom look more surprised to see a little old lady than anything else.

Maria hobbles towards them and cheerfully exclaims, “Hello, officers! My grandsons and I have gotten a little turned around—can you point us toward the commercial district?”

The guards exchange glances. Finally one of them steps forward and says, “Ma’am, you aren’t supposed to be here. This is Schnee company property.”

Maria gasps, raises a hand to her mouth in what looks like shock. “Oh, wow, _very_ turned around then. Would you mind escorting us off the premises, then? We wouldn’t want to make the same mistake twice, after all.”

More exchanging of glances. Jaune fidgets. Ren does not. Maria keeps a smile plastered on her face as she waits for an answer, although Ren can see she’s gripping her walking stick far tighter than she needs to. Finally, the same guard from before says, “We’ve had reports of an unauthorized transport landing in the area. Do you have some form of identification on you?”

“Oh, of course! Maria Calavera, I’ve been staying in the commercial district since just before the embargo began. These are my grandsons, Jaune and Ren. They were students at Beacon before everything happened, and their parents wanted me to take them with me to Atlas. Since, of course, safest place in the world and all that. And Atlas would, of course, be nothing without the Schnee Dust Company!”

Privately, Ren suspects that Maria _may_ be laying it on a bit too thick. This reads like the time Nora tried to convince Jaune that borrowing a guitar and serenading Team RWBY’s closed door was a perfect way to ask Weiss to the dance. If you considered that Nora’s actual goal was to make him fail miserably at asking Weiss so someone else would have a chance with him, it was a resounding success.

Maria passes over an ID with the same false smile. The guard barely gives it a glance before passing it back.

“Are you saying that _both_ of these young men are your grandchildren?”

Ah. Yes. That. Ren _definitely_ does not look anything like Jaune, and neither of them look very much like Maria. The guard is really daring her to keep going with this. Personally, Ren would handle this by saying they had different parents—after all, Ruby and Yang are sisters and they don’t look alike at all.

Maria appears to think on this for a moment. Then, she taps her walking stick on the pavement and says, altogether too cheerfully, “Biologically, just Jaune. Ren’s his boyfriend, but he doesn’t _have_ grandparents and I certainly didn’t mind taking them both with me.”

It’s probably a good thing that the guards are more focused on Maria at the moment. Otherwise, they would be very aware of how much Jaune looks like a fish gasping for air. Or Ren’s own face going _slightly_ red. Somehow, nobody’s ever assumed _that_ before. It’s usually Ren and Nora, and it’s gotten to the point where Nora’s the only one who goes red and starts stammering.

That aside, Ren elbows Jaune as subtly as he can.

“G-Gran,” Jaune manages, “You can’t just… tell everyone that!” 

Good. He got the message.

“Well, why not? They _did_ ask. Quite literally, at that.” Maria returns her attention to the guards and says, significantly _more_ cheerfully, “So would you mind escorting us out? We wouldn’t want to get any _more_ lost, of course.”

The guard sighs, clearly resigned, and says, “If you insist. Our comrades _should_ have the situation in hand.”

* * *

“WEISS!”

Time slows to a dull crawl, metaphorically speaking. Literally speaking, Weiss is moving _far_ too fast to stop. She’s going to crash, facefirst, into a truck that has to weigh literal tons. She can’t stop. She tries to slow down, at least, but she’s moving too fast.

Weiss Schnee: disenfranchised heiress, never became a huntress, killed not by a Grimm but by a _truck_ . Of all things. How _embarrassing._ With that in mind, Weiss calls up a glyph to slow herself down, if only because she is _not_ having that be her epitaph, thank you very much. 

She never hits it. Instead, she’s yanked back by her ponytail. Time returns to its usual pace, just in time for Weiss’ back to hit the pavement. Aura’s still up, but before she can do anything substantial her weapon’s ripped away, clattering to the ground well out of her reach.

Well, good news: she is no longer in danger of imminent demise by speeding, inconveniently-located cargo truck. Bad news: she’s now staring up at one of her father’s guards, and she’s genuinely not sure whether it would be better to be recognized or not.

The guard in question has a grey bandanna obscuring much of his face, a red visor, and some kind of electric machete in his hand. In an instant, Weiss is dragged back to her feet, and the machete is pressed to her throat.

Even knowing she still has _some_ aura, Weiss tries to flinch away from it, finds no move she makes will get her out of this. Yang’s still fighting. She’s knocked one of the guards out of the fight, but she’s taking a lot of hits. Which is good news for her semblance, _if_ she can activate it in time. She might be able to get away if she runs.

Weiss opens her mouth to yell as much, and finds the machete is pressed deeper. Any further, and it’ll start leeching her aura. She can’t risk that. So for now, she stays quiet, and concentrates on maybe, just _maybe_ , summoning something. A quick distraction, something she hadn’t been able to think of when running.

The guard digs his machete further in. It’s not much, but it’s enough for her aura to fail completely.

_Fuck._

“You _might_ want to take a look around you before you continue attacking my men,” the guard holding her hostage calls.

It takes Weiss several moments to realize he’s not talking to her. In those several moments, Yang looks over, sees Weiss, and screams. Her eyes go from their usual violet to red. She’s activated her semblance.

Yang charges. Leaps at them both. Before Weiss can so much as scream for her to stop, her furious charge slows to a crawl, and then to a stop in mid-air.

“What are you— _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”_

A pleased noise. The machete retracts somewhat, although nowhere near enough for Weiss to safely do much beyond speak. “You activated your semblance, I’m guessing. So I activated mine. Cuff them both.”

Yang still can’t move, beyond glaring furiously at the guards that _are_ still standing. The one who’s clearly their leader, the one who had been dealing with Weiss, doesn’t step away until she too is safely cuffed. Then they’re shoved together.

Weiss flexes her fingers experimentally. They’re still sluggish, but the guard seems to have slackened his semblance at least a little.

“Who,” the leader asks, “wants to explain what you were doing with a stolen military transport on SDC property?”

“Eat shit,” Yang replies.

His nose visibly wrinkles beneath the bandanna. He doesn’t respond at first, instead looking to the rest of his men. “You two—get yourselves to a hospital. The rest of you, with me.” With that, he looks past Yang and to Weiss. “Now, let me rephrase that. You _will_ explain this to me. Or, if you insist, I’ve been told that the floor boss of the mines could use some… fresh meat.”

“Oi, Prodman,” one of the others says after a moment. “Isn’t that the missing heiress? Former heiress?”

Oh no.

Prodman strokes his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I do believe that is. In which case, we’ll deliver you to your father, and your friend to the mines.”

“Well shit,” Yang mutters. “How about, hear me out, you don’t do that.”

Weiss winces. “Yang, it might actually be _safer_ for you in the mines.”

“Yeah. Okay. But I’m not letting you go into this alone.”

“Neither of you have any say in the matter,” Prodman cuts in. “Although it’s vaguely amusing watching this regardless.”

“Well, no. But without me, he won’t have any leverage over her anymore.”

Prodman looks at Weiss, and back at Yang, and at Weiss again.

“You making that point is worrying in itself,” Prodman observes. “But I'm not paid enough to really think about it. Hek, inform our employer of these new developments.”

The next thing they know, they’re on a transport bound for Atlas. Both have hands bound, their weapons have long since been confiscated, but… at least Weiss isn’t alone this time. And that does mean the world.

Weiss glances up, finds Yang’s put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey. The others’ll break us out sooner or later,” Yang says. “It’ll be alright.”

“I sincerely hope you’re right,” Weiss replies. “You… don’t know my father.”

“I know you were willing to do nearly anything to get away from him the first time. There’ll be a second time.”

“You’re right that we shouldn’t get separated. More separated, that is.” Weiss gazes down on Mantle below. She sighs.

“Weiss. It’ll be okay. Ruby’s gotten out of tougher scrapes. We all have.” 

Weiss doesn’t dignify that comment about Ruby with a response. Not a verbal one, in any case. Any extra color in her face is purely coincidental and/or due to the cold.

“I’m going to choose to believe they made it out alright. And they’re going to get us out, too.” Yang forces a grin. “I’m just glad Blake got away—I don’t want to know what they’d do to her.”

* * *

“Why?” The guard audibly snorts. He turns to his friends. “Kitty cat’s asking me _why_. That’s rich.”

“My _name_ is not _kitty cat,”_ Blake all but hisses.

“Oh? Forgive me for being so _insensitive.”_ He sounds like the kind of person who would treat being called _insensitive_ or _horribly racist_ as a compliment. People like these, Blake understands Sienna Khan far too well. “We know you’re here for the White Fang. Stop playing dumb. Come quietly, and you _might_ be able to walk free after you tell us everything you know.”

“The _White Fang?_ Whaaaaat?” Ruby, having recovered some, walks up next to Blake and shakes her head. “We’d _never_ join the White Fang! Who even are the White Fang? We don’t know!”

“Ruby,” Blake mutters, “not helping.”

“Oh, of course! Then what, may I ask, are a group of heavily-armed animals doing in the mine district?”

Blake’s ears go flat. “They’re not—”

“Hey! We’re _Faunus,_ ” Nora cuts in. “Get it right!”

Ruby sticks out her tongue at them.

“Yes. We’re...”

Nora said _we_. And Ruby isn’t disagreeing. What are they doing?

“We would _never_ join the White Fang,” Ruby finishes for her. “We’re _huntresses!_ ”

“In training.”

“Huntresses in training!”

“You’re _certainly_ not from Atlas. If this is your attempt at a cover up, it’s painful to listen to.” The sniper audibly sighs. “I’ll make you a deal. You animals give me _something_ on the White Fang, and we’ll just take those weapons of yours and throw you into the mines. Deal?”

“You’ll _just_ take our weapons?” Nora looks incredulous. “What do you mean, _just?_ ”

“He means that things are going to get much, much worse if we don’t take this deal.” Blake takes a deep breath and takes another step forward. This isn’t good, but if they can all get into the mines without anyone getting seriously injured, they can get back their gear later.

Also—the White Fang isn’t, or wasn’t, the only Faunus rights group running around. Years ago, there was another group based here in Atlas. Vox Faunus, if Blake remembers it right. The two groups never worked together. Vox Faunus had always taken a more violent approach to things. By the time the White Fang followed suit, Vox had been crippled by a deadly accident and the ensuing crackdown. There was a brief period of time when the new Fang could have helped them rebuild, but before contact was made, the group all but disbanded overnight.

Point is: they might, _might_ run into someone who’ll help them in the mines, someone who will at least be sympathetic. It’s a better chance than the alternative. Blake doesn’t want to lose anyone. Not here, and preferably not ever, but definitely not here. Not to a bunch of hired guns.

“Blake,” Ruby begins nervously. “I don’t think—”

Blake ignores her teammate. She takes another step forward. Slowly, carefully, she reaches for Gambol Shroud. She unhooks the sheath and holds it for a moment.

“I’ll take my chances with the mines,” Blake says firmly. “Ruby, Nora, you two don’t have to—”

“Course we do! We’re sticking with you.” Nora puts a hand on Blake’s shoulder and winks. “We gotta stick together, after all! Right, Ruby?”

“I—yeah. Right.” 

“Great! It makes my job _so_ much easier when there’s no resistance. Now, hand over your weapons, give me some solid intel, and we’ll drop you off in the mines. No harm done.”

No harm done, except when Blake realizes too late the reason Ruby had been hesitating. Too late to do anything but watch as the man with the sniper rifle takes the Relic of Knowledge.

At least he doesn’t know what it is. At least two of her friends are safe, for the moment.

* * *

“Take care!” 

Maria waves as the security guards head back in the direction of the mine district. Once their backs are turned, and her back is turned to them, her cheery smile disappears and she mutters, “I thought they would never leave. Well! Let’s keep going, shall we?”

“Was that _really_ the only thing you could think of?” Jaune asks. “Boyfriends? _Really?_ You couldn’t have said we were cousins, or—hell, even teammates?”

“I could have. This was _far_ more amusing.”

“Out of curiosity,” Ren asks, “are all silver-eyed warriors this…”

“Terrible?” Jaune offers.

“Chaotic.”

Maria laughs. “Not really one currently.” She taps the side of her prosthetic eyes meaningfully. “But to answer your question: yes. My father was, and our friend Ruby has done nothing to disprove this. Now, come along. I know someone who can help us, and I’m _reasonably_ certain we’re not far from his place.”

* * *

Oscar genuinely doesn’t know where everyone else went. When Maria yelled to scatter, everyone ran in different directions, Oscar included. Except, just around the corner, he found a ladder leading up to a rooftop. He climbed it, and hid as best he could behind some crates.

And that’s where he is now. Everything _seems_ to have quieted down. The sounds of gunfire and boots pounding on concrete have stopped. When he peers over the edge of said rooftop, there’s no one in sight. It’s quiet again, too quiet.

Now that it’s over, Oscar wishes he’d followed someone. There were three distinct groups that people split into, he thinks. He couldn’t say who was in which group, and he definitely doesn’t know what happened to them. Hopefully they all made it out. Hopefully, they’ll regroup at that… White Fang base.

Oscar really doesn’t know much about the White Fang. Based on what he does know, they sound alright if… extreme. Cool motive, still murder, as his Auntie Em would say. And did.

He kind of misses her. Maybe he’ll send her a letter sometime, if letters can even get out of Atlas currently. Maybe he won’t. Maybe it’ll be better if she forgets about him entirely, if he just… becomes Oz. Which is probably going to happen, sooner or later.

He grips the cane, takes a deep breath, and heads back to the ladder. He slides down it, then tries to remember where the meeting point was.

A dust shop. An _abandoned, out of business_ dust shop, called Coal Dust. Supposedly a hideout for the White Fang, or a safehouse, or… something. It’s close, and the others will have gotten there, and they’ll figure it out.

Oscar realizes, as he walks down the deserted street towards the boarded-up storefront, that he hasn’t been truly alone in… months. Not until now. He’s not even sure if Oz is listening.

“Hey,” Oscar says quietly. “So. Not sure if you heard me talking to Qrow earlier, but I… would like to try what I mentioned earlier. Then you can have your own body again, and I can just… be me. I’d like to be a huntsman, I think. But… not if it means losing myself.”

No response. Not even a feeling of acknowledgement. There’s no indication he’s even been heard. Oscar doesn’t know what he expected, or if he wanted to be heard at all.

Coal Dust. Right. Oscar looks up at it. He raises a hand to knock on the door and… stops. He probably shouldn’t be knocking on the door. He probably should wait. There’s probably some specific way to get in that Blake knows, but nobody else would, so he should wait until other people get here.

Just… somewhere quiet. Maybe a dumpster? Oscar grips Ozpin’s— _the_ cane a little tighter as he walks over. He takes a deep breath. He grabs the lid, pulls it up, and—there’s a bird inside.

There’s a _bird_ inside. Relatively small, dark feathers, probably a crow or a raven. It’s sitting atop a bulging trashbag, and looks up at Oscar curiously.

“How did you get in there?” Oscar asks, talking mostly to himself. He opens the lid further. “I… go ahead and hop out, then, I don’t know how you’d get out on your own.”

The crow(?) shakes its feathers in a huff. If Oscar didn’t know any better, he’d swear it just rolled its eyes, and—

Wait. _Wait._

Qrow can turn into a crow.

Oscar gives him a look. Qrow glares back.

“Do I want to know why you turned into a crow in a dumpster?”

Qrow the crow squawks indignantly. He flies up and past Oscar, who turns just in time to see him roll to his feet in human form.

“Do you _see_ how cramped it is in there?” Qrow says. “Did you _really_ expect me not to downsize?”

“Didn’t expect you to be hiding in a dumpster.” Oscar decides not to mention that he was about to do the same thing. “I think they’re gone.”

“Yeah, they’re gone,” Qrow agrees. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen any of the other kids or grandma?”

“Nope. Do you think they’re…?”

“They’re fine. Right now, best thing we can do is get out of here. I’m a lot more willing to take my chances with Jimmy.”

* * *

In the heart of Mantle, a little old lady meets with an old friend. Dr. Pietro Polendina is, after a few moments, happy to see her. His memory might be going slightly. Or it might not. Regardless, he does remember something rather important just in time to warn the little old lady and her ‘grandkids.’

“Before we get to other matters,” Pietro says. “If the Grimm alarms happen to go off, I must ask you not to fight them.”

“What?” Jaune demands. “ _Why?_ ”

“The Protector of Mantle will have it well under control.” He smiles. “Although you are welcome to watch, I suspect you did _not_ in fact arrive weeks ago judging by the fact that it took this long for Maria to come see me about her prosthetics.”

Maria grins sheepishly. “Well—”

“No. No, no, no, no, _no_ don’t you _dare_ explain the specifics to me Maria Calavera, I have plausible deniability to maintain. Even if you did, your ‘grandsons’—” He makes finger quotes around the word. “—certainly aren’t licensed to _use_ their weapons in Atlesian territory. So feel free to watch. May I ask, were you at the Vytal Festival?”

Jaune audibly winces, averts his gaze, but they both know what he’s thinking of. Who he’s thinking of.

“Yes,” Ren says instead. He weighs his options briefly, and continues to say, “We are Jaune Arc and Lie Ren of Team JNPR, formerly students at Beacon Academy.”

“Yeah,” Jaune manages. “That we are.”

He’s definitely thinking of Pyrrha. Ren puts a hand on his shoulder, asks a question in his eyes.

“Nah, I’m. I’ll be fine,” Jaune says unconvincingly. Ren activates his semblance anyway, and for a brief few seconds, all color drains from him. Jaune blinks back tears and mumbles, “Thanks.”

Satisfied, Ren releases his semblance.

“Team… JNPR. Was that the team that—”

“She didn’t mean it. She didn’t _know_ what was going to happen! There was—there was a girl, Emerald, who had a semblance that made people see things. She made our friend Yang get disqualified after she won her match. She made Pyrrha—!”

Too soon. Semblance: back on. Of course Jaune would be hit hard by this. It was, perhaps, killing Penny Polendina that drove Pyrrha into a fight she couldn’t win.

Ren misses her too. 

“I bear no ill will toward you or your teammates, present or otherwise,” Pietro murmurs. His shoulders sag. “It was not your fault what happened to Penny. If you would like, you are welcome to look outside the next time the alarms go off, but I must ask you to look and only look, no matter what you see. Since the Fall of Beacon, General Ironwood has become… more paranoid, if that’s possible. I’m not entirely sure what happened to him there. I’m not entirely sure I want to know.”

Ren knows, but he suspects the doctor is telling the truth. With that in mind, he...

Wait. Maria had first introduced him to them as Dr. Pietro Polendina. Penny’s last name was Polendina. Penny, who had been torn apart by Pyrrha’s… semblance…

Before Ren can question this, alarms go off. Grimm. Jaune, who does not currently have the Team Braincells (usually Ren, occasionally Jaune, rarely Nora), runs for the door.

Or he would have, if Ren hadn’t snagged him by the hood of his hoodie and dragged him back a few steps.

“Right,” Jaune agrees. Ren drops the hood, and the boys continue at a more careful yet still quick pace to the door. Jaune opens it carefully. For a few moments, there’s nothing. 

Outside, a girl in a green and white dress flies past, clearly with some kind of rocket boosters in her boots, and long red hair tied up with a bow. She turns to face the door, grins, and waves as she speeds past.

“Was that…?” Jaune shakes his head. “No, she was—”

“Torn apart, yes,” Pietro says behind them. “Fortunately, we were able to recover her core from Amity Arena after…” He audibly winces. “That. While we would all like to avoid that happening again, the important part is that my daughter is combat-ready once more. And… okay.”

“I have… absolutely no idea who that child is!” Maria says brightly. “Is she important somehow?”

“Yes,” Ren says.

“Yeah,” Jaune agrees.

Pietro chuckles to himself. “Let’s get back inside. Penny will be returning home soon enough. Say, if you were at Beacon… I don’t suppose you know of Team RWBY?”

* * *

“Are you _shitting me_ ,” Qrow mutters.

“Nope,” Oscar replies. Both grip their respective weapons, Oscar with a significantly less practiced grip than Qrow’s.

 _Now would be a good time for some help,_ Oscar thinks bitterly in Ozpin’s general direction. No answer. No time to try any further, because there’s a pack of sabertoothed Grimm—Sabyrs, he remembers—running for them.

“Grimm, in Mantle? It's always been bad here but never this bad.” Qrow audibly sighs. He glances up at Atlas above, shakes his head, and mumbles, “What the _hell_ are you doing, Jimmy?”

“Um… Qrow?”

Qrow slices the first Sabyr in half without so much as looking. He presses a button on Harbinger, and it shifts from a greatsword to its more usual scythe form.

“Grimm first, Jimmy second.”

Oscar genuinely can’t tell whether Qrow is talking to him or to himself. He charges, a red-caped blur of scythe and man, leaving Oscar to handle the Sabyrs that make it past him.

Oscar takes a deep breath, and extends the cane. He can do this. It’ll be fine, he can do this, _he can do this._

A Sabyr leaps for him. He swings, and swings again. This time with a yell. He strikes, bludgeoning the Sabyr again and again and again—

It crumples. Dissolves into black goo, as all Grimm do. Oscar stares at it for a moment, but just a moment. No longer.

Because Qrow yells, “Heads up, pipsqueak!” 

He swings the cane again. It connects with a solid _thwack_. It connects with a Sabyr’s chest, sends it flying backwards with a pained whine but no disintegration yet. It connects again with another, and another, and another, until finally there’s nothing left charging at them.

Qrow wrenches Harbinger out of the last Sabyr’s gut and, as it disintegrates, he returns it to sword form and to its normal position sheathed on his back. He stretches up, audibly popping his back in the motion.

“Let’s go.”

“Right.” Oscar retracts the bulk of the cane, but doesn’t put it away as he walks up to where Qrow is. “Where to now?”

“Dunno. Didn’t think ahead this far. Gonna be honest, I was expecting our welcome to Mantle to go a lot worse.”

Qrow had scarcely finished speaking when, as if responding to him, _something_ flies at Oscar’s legs and wraps around them, resulting in a very fast faceplant. The more painful-sounding thump of someone a bit bigger hitting the ground confirms that yes, they got Qrow too.

Oscar manages to twist his position somewhat, look over his shoulder, and see… bolas? Is that what they’re called? If it is, that’s more unwanted knowledge from Oz.

Footsteps. They’re surrounded, outnumbered five to one.

“Good job, team,” says the man spinning a horseshoe on his finger. He catches it without looking. “Let’s bring them in.”

“This,” Qrow grumbles, “was a lot more in line with what I was expecting.”

Oscar might have imagined it. Or Horseshoe Man might have, very subtly, winked at Qrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this somehow changed in scope from "RWBY AU of Warframe" to "entire rewrite of V7 of RWBY ft. Solaris United and others" and you know what, I'm okay with that. I will also say that there has been some slight canon divergence before the start of this fic, which will be addressed sooner or later but until then will be hinted at. 
> 
> Everyone: if you've got questions about the other canon, ask, I'll do my best to explain what I can without spoiling too much. In the meantime, here we gooooo!
> 
> Fun fact: this is the longest single chapter I've ever written. I've written fics shorter than this. I've written _multi-chapter fics_ shorter than this. Wow.
> 
> Update: Some of you may remember the original version of this chapter having Teshin in the role currently filled by John Prodman. Now that this fic and its overall series are better planned out, and since it doesn't make a lot of sense for him to serve the SDC/Corpus anyway, we made the decision to retcon him out. Teshin will appear in a more significant role later.


	3. Intro: "Trust Love"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Trust Love, original flavor. Feel free to listen while you're reading the reworked intro.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oNxZjazKCIw)

_ [Instrumental.] _

Silhouettes of Ruby and Blake appear on vertical red and purple stripes, then silhouettes of Weiss (light blue) and Yang (yellow) in the order that Team RWBY’s name is spelled. 

Then come silhouettes of Nora (pink) and Ren (magenta), and of Jaune (yellow) and Oscar (green) in the order of Team JNPR from top to bottom. 

Cut to a pan up on boots standing on snow. Then there’s leggings and a cape visible, and oh look! It’s Ruby.

Wide shot. Team RWBY is standing on the edge of a snowy cliff in order, from left to right, of Yang, Weiss, Ruby, and Blake. Ruby has her hood up, and the wind is blowing hard. It’s snowing, somewhat.

_ [Keep dreaming ‘bout a better world] _

Side shot of Ruby. She reaches up, pulls down her hood. Shot of her face as she does so. She stares past the camera with an unreadable expression.

_ [You keep wishing for some clarity] _

Similar shots of Yang, then Weiss, then Blake. The wind is still strong, and blowing from their right to their left.

_ [Always hoping that a lightning bolt] _

Shots of the girls from behind, silhouetted against the sky and... Atlas! As the verse continues, all four silhouettes dissolve into dust, and the camera pans up from Atlas.

_ [Is gonna save you from this gravity] _

The black dust that the figures dissolve into forms words against the clouds:  _ RWBY. _ Below it, in smaller white type highlighted with black, is  _ VOLUME 7. _ All the black lettering and the highlight turns pale blue, so that it blends into the sky.

_ [You’re holding out for some romantic life] _

Yang yeets herself across the sky with Ember Celica, from the bottom left corner to the top right. She shoots herself back into the bottom left corner, but closer, then does a backflip and smacks her fists together. Suddenly, she is in her Atlas outfit, which looks remarkably similar to her Mistral outfit but better prepared for colder weather. Her hair catches on fire, the entire screen is covered with fire, and her eyes go red. She appears to be using her semblance.

_ [Maybe you’ll wake up in a world of charm] _

As Yang flies offscreen, next is Blake. Using her own semblance, she makes a clone of herself, and then shifts to her new outfit. She has short hair now, a new, long jacket, and her haircut looks adorable. She holds up Gambol Shroud (no longer broken from a certain fight with a certain possessive piece of shit, now repaired with a thin line of gold) and the camera shoots past her to…

Weiss! She does a backflip in midair, landing on one of her glyphs. She springs off it, does another backflip, and swings her arms out with Myrtenaster in her left hand. Now instead of her ever-present long white ponytail she has a long white braid, a shirt and a skirt that could be easily mistaken for a dress, and a vivid blue shrug over it. Also, her heels, because who that height is  _ not _ going to take those extra inches where she can?

_ [Oh, but what’s here can set you free] _

And now it’s Ruby’s turn! She leaps onto her scythe, using the sniper rifle to propel herself upwards and out of the frame. When the camera returns to her, she’s wearing a new (but roughly the same) outfit, and has shorter hair.

_ [You don’t have to dream!] _

She uses her semblance, trailing rose petals and spiraling across the screen, until she finally becomes herself again, holding her arms wide (with a grip on Crescent Rose still of course) and free-falling with a huge grin.

_ [Your life’s a masterpiece] _

Cut to Ironwood, looking at a table with projections of various military forces on it. Camera view switches to his face, staring directly at the camera, lost in thought. The stress stubble has grown to a full stress beard, and he is frowning. His eyes narrow, and the camera zooms in to his right eye. Atlas (or the hologram version of it) is reflected there.

The screen goes dark. A pin with a four-leaf clover and a horseshoe clearly visible in the design flies in from above the camera, and a hand wearing a brown fingerless glove reaches up and grabs it. As soon as the fist clenches on it, it becomes silhouetted against a green background.

_ [If you just believe!] _

The Ace Ops are silhouetted, from left to right: Clover against his green, with his arms crossed and Kingfisher at his hip. Vine against yellow, hands together against his chest. Elm, against a paler green than Clover, with one hand on her hip and the other holding Timber on her shoulder. Harriet, against a deeper red than Ruby, hands balled into fists and clearly ready to run at  _ something _ . And Marrow, the goodest boy, holding Fetch and doggo tail clearly visible.

Scene shifts to show Clover front and center with an easy grin on his face, hands on his hips and eyes open, standing in front of Atlas Academy. He blinks, tilts his chin up, and the rest of the Ace Ops are also standing there. In order from left to right: Vine, Marrow, Clover, Elm, Harriet.

_ [Then all you see is all you need] _

The photograph freezes—because it is a photograph now, clearly displayed on a screen of some sort. Above it is displayed  _ ATLAS_OPERATIVES.FLD_ACE _ .

Cut to a very familiar bushy mustache on a very familiar face. One end goes up as the mustache’s owner smiles. Cut to gloved and ringed fingers, typing on some kind of a keyboard. Over this, a figure silhouetted in black with a glowing blue outline that is unmistakably Tyrian leaps around the screen, doing twists and turns and backflips, before eventually balancing on his tail in the center of the screen, sitting cross-legged on top of it.

_ [Right now your hopes are shattered] _

Ironwood, holding one of his pistols, shoots the camera, shattering the image of before with a red blast. He lowers the pistol and looks to the side as white overtakes him.

_ [Just pointless ever after] _

Scene shifts to the Schnee home. Jacques Schnee crosses his arms and looks disapprovingly over his shoulder. Whitley has a hand on his hip, and just looks bored. The camera rotates 180 degrees, showing Winter (who immediately crosses her arms and looks back) and Weiss (who looks at her sister questioningly) with the Schnee family crest behind them. The camera rotates halfway back to Jacques and Whitley, showing Willow Schnee holding a wine bottle in her arms and looking in Jacques’ direction, before she closes her eyes and sighs. 

_ [But in time you’ll find through love your power just shines!] _

On the left, Pietro fixes his tie. On the right, Maria adjusts her prosthetic eyes and leans in to look closer at the camera. Her eyes widen, and she smiles.

Cut to Ruby and someone with red hair sitting on the edge of the roof of a building, apparently having some kind of conversation. The camera spins, the scene shifts and that same woman with red hair is standing very close to a dark-haired woman in a beanie on a similar-looking roof. They both look afraid but determined, and as the camera zooms out, it is apparent that both hold weapons and are pointing them at the camera. A third woman, hooded but with black hair and black eyes visible and holding what appears to be a sniper rifle, swings upside-down from the top and lands on her feet to the right of them. A fourth, a white-haired woman with one piercing blue eye, an eyepatch, and clearly visible bear ears, walks in from the left and points her polearm at the camera.

They charge, and Penny 2.0 appears onscreen. She looks at the camera, closes her eyes, and smiles happily.

_ [When you don’t know where to turn to] _

Yang activates her semblance in an elegantly-decorated room, punching her fists together as her eyes go red. She does not have Ember Celica, but she does have her prosthetic arm. Cut to a door being punched down by nothing but her arm. She steps out into a hallway in the Schnee Manor. Her eyes go back to their usual color, and she turns back to see Weiss stepping out of the door behind her. 

_ [And you’re sure all hope is gone] _

Nora, in her new outfit, hefts a crate with the SDC logo on the side. It’s far bigger than her, and likely far heavier too. Blake, Ruby, and Eudico carry another one with some difficulty behind her. 

_ [When the day you waited for won’t come] _

Elsewhere, Ren, Oscar, and Jaune (also in their new outfits, but Jaune’s hair is only trimmed) attack a group of Sabyrs. Four of the five Ace Ops attack a Petra Gigas.

_ [And dark won’t yield to dawn] _

Clover uses Kingfisher to swing up from below to the Petra Gigas’ core. Qrow transforms back into himself from a bird in the sky and zooms down.

_ [Trust love!] _

The two of them deal the finishing blows on the Petra Gigas. Cut to Robyn, who looks at a mob protesting against a screen that shows Ironwood. 

_ [Open up your eyes] _

Someone throws a rock at it. Jacques Schnee is visible for just a moment, before there is suddenly a different version of him with extremely visible cat ears. It switches back to the real Jacques, who is now frowning.

_ [Trust love!] _

Oscar is sparring with Ironwood using Ozpin’s cane. The scene changes to show Oscar in an aura transfer machine with his eyes closed, and a robot that looks similar but clearly is not Penny on the other side. The aura being transferred through the machine is green.

_ [The truth is there but sometimes in disguise] _

Happy Huntresses group photo. Except it’s not a photo. Joanna and Fiona vanish, leaving Robyn, May, and a fifth woman with a mask on bearing the likeness of a purple lotus flower, all of whom get into a defensive stance. Camera spins to show a man with blue hair and a slightly longer right arm, wielding a sword with pure anger in his eyes. Some kind of chain weapon comes from the left, wraps around his arm, and tugs, making him drop his sword. From the right, Fiona and Joanna charge, screaming.

_ [The way’s uncertain but we’re together] _

Tyrian leaps for Robyn. Kingfisher’s hook comes from the left side to pull him off as the camera turns to reveal Clover. From the right comes Qrow, who slams into Tyrian as Robyn sidesteps and attempts to hit him with Harbinger (in scythe form.)

_ [Moving toward the light] _

Ruby is standing against Cinder, seemingly alone. Except a fireball is thrown past her and past the camera. Ruby’s eyes go wide, and start to glow.

_ [When we trust in love and open up our eyes] _

Silhouettes of Team RWBY spinning around with their weapons against a white background. Ruby’s face is shown looking off to the left. She grips her scythe, and the camera zooms out to show a group shot of Teams RWBY and JNPR, Penny, Qrow, Clover, and Marrow, all five of the Happy Huntresses, and a group of faunus including all four from the  _ your power just shines _ line, an old man with a wolf’s tail, and a woman with a rabbit’s whiskers.

_ [Instrumental] _

Brief shot of the old man with the wolf’s tail kneeling in the snow and extending a hand to something or someone. Black screen. Text reading  _ SERIES CREATED BY MONTY OUM _ , with the Staff of Creation flashing behind it. And the intro is over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is a rework of the usual Volume 7 intro. Yes, there are hints toward what's going to change (which is a lot of stuff). It _may_ be worth comparing to see what's changed. Theories are welcome and greatly encouraged.
> 
> ... ~~Episode~~ Chapter 2 is almost done, and I'm going to have it up sometime this weekend. Hopefully. Probably. Fingers crossed, because I might actually not have as much homework as I was afraid I did. <3 love y'all


	4. Part 1 Episode 2: Lift Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Qrow and Oscar are brought to Ironwood, Blake, Nora, and Ruby are thrown into the SDC mines. Weiss is forced to return somewhere she never wanted to be again, but at least she has someone with her this time. Honestly, Jaune and Ren probably have it the easiest at the moment, even if Penny's return calls up some bad memories.
> 
> All of them might find help right where they least expect it. But first, they have to look for it.

Blake hadn’t given them the location of an active White Fang safehouse, and she certainly hadn’t told them about the one she’d sent any of her friends that did escape to. Instead, she told them somewhere Adam had used to frequent, somewhere that would still have enough incriminating material to convince them she wasn’t lying. On the other hand, that would also confirm she was actually involved with the White Fang, which is why the sooner she can get into the mines and get out from their scrutiny, the better.

Currently, she and Ruby and Nora are sitting in the back of a SDC-branded truck, going to the mines later than the usual arrival time. It’s still morning, at least. All of their hands are bound, all of their weapons are piled _just_ out of reach, and all of the company goons, as Blake has begun not-so-fondly referring to them, are merrily chatting away without a care in the world. They genuinely don’t care about the Faunus, their employees, or anyone. Anyone except who’s paying for them: one of her teammates’ cold, unfeeling bastard of a father.

For her part, Blake can’t meet anyone’s eyes. Not Ruby’s, not Nora’s, and she wouldn’t want to look at the company goons anyway.

“Blake,” Ruby whispers, and is ignored. She leans in some, and says, more insistently this time, _“Blake!”_

“I’m sorry,” Blake says automatically.

“What? No! No, you don’t have to be sorry! It’s okay! We’re going to make it out of this! We’re going to—“ She glances toward the front of the truck and lowers her voice back to a whisper. “They won’t know what the Relic is. As long as it’s put with the rest of our weapons, we can get it back!”

“How are we going to do _that?”_ Nora asks. “These jerks really, _really_ don’t seem like the type to just give them back.”

“Then we take them back,” Blake replies. “There has to be _somewhere_ we can find _someone_ who will help us. Someone will know where they keep confiscated items. You’ve heard of what the SDC is capable of, what it does—there’s no way we can’t find someone dissatisfied with all this.”

“But how do we find them?”

Blake sighs. Her ears droop. “I don’t know.”

The truck hits a pothole, nearly sending all three girls flying. Ruby grabs the nearest friend’s sleeve with wide eyes, the nearest friend in this case being Nora. Nora and Blake both grab the side of the truck, and not a moment too soon, because the truck hits another pothole. And another, and another, to the point where it starts to feel like there’s more potholes in the road than not.

Somehow, Blake isn’t surprised that Jacques Schnee cares more about his precious security force than maintaining roads he would never take. Considering how Weiss once was, and everything else she knows about the SDC, it’s disappointing, but not at all surprising.

What is the surprise is the roar that greets them as the truck pulls into a garage at the mine’s entrance. Blake’s ears twitch. She whirls in her seat, searching for the source, and finds it. She almost wishes she hadn’t.

Grimm. _Caged_ Grimm, no less. There’s a pack of Sabyrs caged separately but close together, and many other Grimm that Blake can’t recognize. The only reason she recognizes Sabyrs is from the last time she was in Atlas, which she tries not to think about. These Grimm must be local. And they’re caged, in the mines.

It’s obvious what they’re here for, and that makes Blake curl in on herself even more. Apparently, it’s not obvious enough to Ruby.

“Why are there _Grimm_ here?” She shouts at the front of the truck. It rolls to a stop. One of the goons hops out the driver’s door and looks at her like she’s stupid.

Ruby may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. Immature, yes. Naive, yes. Idealistic, yes. But stupid? Never. Just a little slow on the uptake when seeing the dark side of humanity. Her eyes go wide. She looks to Blake, questioning.

Blake closes her eyes and nods. When she opens her eyes, Ruby’s blinking back tears.

“Alright, ride’s over. Get out. Chop chop.” The leader claps his hands. Blake leaps down from the back of the truck first, followed by Nora—who looks more pissed than sad, but is wisely staying quiet for now—and Ruby. Ruby, whose shoulders are shaking already.

“It’ll be alright,” Blake says. “We’ll find someone. It’ll be alright.”

Ruby takes a deep breath. Nods. Breathes in and out, blinks hard. In a few moments, her usual optimistic resolve is back in her eyes, somewhat.

“You know where to take their contraband,” the lead goon orders. “Get going. You three, out of the way.” 

He steps to the side as the truck begins to back up. Three huntresses in training watch, with varying amounts of hopelessness, as their weapons and the Relic of Knowledge are carried farther and farther away from them. The garage door is shut with a great clang, and…

And he’s cutting their bonds. Nora’s first, then Ruby’s, then at last Blake’s. 

“Try anything, and you won’t make it out alive. Follow me. If you’re smart, you’ll listen to your new floor boss.”

“Floor… boss?” Nora asks. They all begin walking.

“There’s a few of them. All animals, of course, but they’re useful enough for keeping the rest of your lot in line. The one on duty today is…” He pulls out his scroll, checks something on it, slips it back into a pocket. “Eudico Bruin. Wow. Good luck.”

“Good luck? What’s that supposed to mean???”

Their escort ignores them. Instead, he strides forward, towards an open mineshaft. Instead of going inside, however, he turns. There’s a door off to the left, and it’s shut. It’s shut until their escort wrenches it open and ushers them inside.

Inside, the room is barren save for a battered desk and the papers scattered across it. Someone is sitting behind it, almost quite literally buried in paperwork, with short red hair tucked behind her ears, a dark brown scarf tucked around her neck, and lighter brown fur clearly visible on the backs of her hands. She stops writing, looks up, takes in the situation. Looks at the goon, then at Blake. Her gaze lingers on Ruby and Nora for significantly longer, before she returns attention to their guard.

“What is this about,” the woman Blake assumes is Eudico mutters.

“New employees. I’m just here to deliver ‘em. Keep an eye on them, and if they cause any trouble? You know who to call.”

“Yes.” She looks at Ruby and Nora again. “Yes, I certainly do. They look… young.”

“Is that a problem?”

Eudico taps the desk with a finger thoughtfully. Eventually, she says, “Of course not. Is there anything else?”

“The usual. I’ll leave them to you.”

The guard leaves, shutting the door behind him. Eudico looks at them. They look at Eudico. There’s a long, terse silence. Eudico’s gaze shifts to the door briefly, but it doesn’t open. They seem to be alone.

“So,” Eudico says at last, folding her hands in her lap. “Who would like to tell me what three kids are doing here?”

“Um,” Ruby tries, “it’s a long story.”

“And neither of you two are Faunus. Am I wrong?”

Nora visibly winces. “Well—”

“We didn’t want to leave Blake,” Ruby blurts. “We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into, but I wasn’t leaving her to this alone! I’m still not going to.”

“Me either!”

“And we’re not kids!”

“You,” Blake points out, “are definitely more of a kid than anyone else on our team.”

“Not the point!”

“You’re kids, you don’t seem to know _anything_ about what things are like in Mantle, and you stick out too much to _not_ be huntresses or in training to be. But you’re kids, so you’re not actual huntresses yet, and you’re not from Atlas Academy. Shade?”

“Beacon.”

“That would explain why you’re not in school. Doesn’t explain what you did to get on the SDC’s shitlist. Anyone want to tell me?”

Blake doesn’t answer. What’s more surprising is that neither does Ruby or Nora. Once it’s clear nobody is going to, Eudico sighs, and gets up.

“You know what, I don’t care what you did to get here. I’ll find something for you to do. Just keep your heads down, stay out of trouble, and right now? Follow me.”

* * *

For the first time in months, Weiss Schnee stands at the door to her family home in Atlas. She had stubbornly, irrationally, hoped she would never be here again. She should have known better, especially considering where they were going. The group was going to _Atlas_ , she should have known better than to think she could avoid this forever, or even for a little while.

Physically, she is not bound any longer. In every other manner, she is. She’s trapped again in everything terrible her _father_ brought to the Schnee family name, and she doesn’t have her weapon or even her scroll anymore.

What she _does_ have is Yang. So she’s got that going for her, at least. At least this time, she isn’t alone. At least—

“Hey, Weiss. How much do you think I can piss off your family with bad puns once we get in there?”

On second thought, she would have much rather had Ruby. Ruby is equally annoying, but in a more endearing way. If that makes any sense at all.

“Yang, _please._ ”

“Alright, fine, no bad puns, I don’t need puns to piss people off. Anything I should know going in?”

“You met Winter. Out of everyone related to me by blood, she’s the _least_ dysfunctional. And nothing short of a direct order from Ironwood would make her come back here willingly.” Weiss bites her lip, and reaches for the door. She stops before she does, and looks back at Yang. “You only really need to worry about my father. Mother puts your uncle’s drinking habits to shame, and Whitley… is Whitley. Annoying, but nothing to worry about.”

Weiss decides against mentioning Klein for now. She’s probably tempted fate enough by lingering out here and warning Yang about what she’s gotten herself into. Painfully aware of her father’s thugs waiting behind them, she knocks on the door.

 _Whitley_ opens it, which does not bode well at all for Klein still having a job. His gaze flicks between Weiss and Yang with no visible emotion. Then, his lips curl into a cold, practiced smile, one Weiss has seen many times before on someone else.

“Welcome home! Welcome home, dear sister, and…” His eyes narrow ever-so-slightly. “Friend. Follow me. Father will wish to see you.”

Whitley turns on his heel and marches inside. He doesn’t bother to hold the door, but Yang catches it with her prosthetic arm and holds it open for Weiss.

“Guessing _that’s_ your brother,” Yang mutters. “Wow. And I thought you were bad when we met.”

“I was _nothing_ like him,” Weiss protests.

Yang raises an eyebrow.

“Alright. I was a little like him,” she admits.

“Are you coming or not?” Whitley calls from inside. “I thought you would have remembered that Father doesn’t like waiting.”

Weiss visibly rolls her eyes. “It’s not like either of us have any _choice_ in the matter, _Whitley._ ”

* * *

“Nope,” is the only warning Jaune gets before the scissors are snatched out of his grip. “That is going to look _terrible_ , and no grandson of mine is cutting his hair into that _atrocity_ . No, absolutely not, nada, _nope._ You’re hereby banned from scissor privileges.”

“I’m not even your grandson—” Jaune tries, and the non-bladed end of the scissors are poked squarely into his chest.

“As far as Atlesian security is concerned for the moment, yes. You. Are.” She punctuates those last three words by poking him again. “Did Ruby tell you what my semblance was?”

“Something about reflexes?”

Maria mutters something inaudible under her breath. Without any sort of warning, Jaune lunges for the scissors—except she must have had some kind of warning, because she whips them back out of his way with a laugh.

 _“Pre_ flexes, dear. That’s how I knew we were about to have trouble when those goons jumped us, and why _you_ aren’t getting these scissors back anytime soon. If you want a haircut, _I’ll_ give you a trim and that’s it, because the haircut _you_ were planning looked _terrible._ ”

In the end, Jaune gets his haircut courtesy of one exceedingly stubborn grandmother figure. He does not get the haircut he was planning on. Instead, he gets his hair trimmed enough so that his hair’s out of his eyes, but that’s _it_. For now. 

Maria can’t possibly keep every pair of scissors in Mantle away from him. 

For now, he decides to keep it, if only because Penny is getting impatient, and she’s convinced she can get them an audience with Ironwood. The problem is getting up to Atlas. Penny can fly, but not while carrying multiple people.

“I’ll call a transport to get you up to Atlas,” Pietro offers. He leaves to another room. Maria, glancing over her shoulder briefly, follows him.

The instant both of them are gone, Penny’s shoulders visibly sag, and she says, “I am very sorry about your teammate, Jaune Arc and Lie Ren. Can you pass on my apology to Nora Valkyrie?”

“Would if she was here,” Jaune says, and Penny’s eyes go wide. “No! Nothing like that. Nora’s fine, we just got separated. She’s _fine._ ”

 _Are you trying to convince her of that, or yourself,_ asks a voice that sounds an awful lot like one Cardin Winchester, typical playground bully on steroids. Jaune ignores it.

“That’s good! Not that you got separated from her, but that she’s fine. My apology still stands.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Ren puts a hand on her shoulder. “Pyrrha would have been… relieved to know you had a second chance.”

“Is that why your father wanted to take measurements of our weapons?” Jaune asks. Penny clearly looks confused, which is an answer in itself, but he elaborates anyway, “Did you ask him to?”

“Oh! No, I did not get the chance to,” Penny says. “He likes a challenge, and besides, the Ace Ops banned him from tinkering with their weapons. There was an incident with their leader, his weapon, and a crow a couple years back, it… didn’t end very well for him or his weapon. The crow was fine though. Maybe a little dusty if anything!”

Jaune looks at Ren. Ren looks at Jaune. They both look at Penny, who cocks her head in the way only dogs and exceedingly adorable individuals can pull off well.

“Did I say something?” Penny asks. 

And here they have the moral dilemma of whether or not Qrow would be okay with them telling Penny about his crow thing. He probably wouldn’t give a shit, but better safe than sorry.

“We know someone named Qrow,” Jaune says with a shrug. “Guessing you didn’t mean him.”

“No, I certainly do not mean an actual person! I mean the bird. Which was kind of strange, actually, because crows aren’t native to Solitas but then again, neither are humans or faunus and here you are!” Penny grins. “Honestly, it was weird that it actually turned out better for the bird than for Captain Ebi. Some uncharacteristic bad luck for him. In any case, I think you’ll like him and the rest of the Ace Operatives!”

Uncharacteristic bad luck? Definitely Qrow. That’ll be a fun story to bring up next time they see him. Which they will. They’ll see everyone again. They _will._

* * *

“It’s either a really good sign or a really, _really_ bad sign that they dropped us off at Atlas Academy and not jail,” Qrow says. “But with my luck… don’t get your hopes up, pipsqueak. We might be fucked upside down and sideways.”

Oscar shoots him a look. Qrow audibly groans.

“What? You’re what, fifteen? You’re too old to get scandalized by swearing.”

“No, not that. I don’t care about that,” Oscar says in return. They both hop off the ship, still bound, and watch as it goes to take the man they’d been with to what probably _is_ jail. “If we’re at Atlas Academy, we’ll get taken to Ironwood. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully’s right.”

Oscar can keep on hoping if he wants. Qrow’s lived too damn long and had his hopes shattered too many damn times to be optimistic. If he was alone, he’d cause a distraction, turn into a bird, and fly away now. Problem is, he’s not alone, and considering how Jimmy had acted _before_ the Fall of Beacon, he’s not sure if telling him who’s tagging along with Oscar is a good idea.

He’s _definitely_ not leaving Oscar alone in this. 

While he’s coming up with reasoning, the last time he flew around in Atlas hadn’t gone so well when they _weren’t_ actively hunting him down. So. Maybe best to keep that as a last resort.

 _Maybe_ things will actually go well.

* * *

“Oi, Biz! Got some kids who need kitting up.” Eudico raps on a closed door. No answer from the inside. She sighs. Shakes her head, turns to the girls. When she speaks again, it’s with a raised voice. “He’s _usually_ here. Oh well. I _guess_ I just have to go into the equipment room by myself.”

As if on cue, the door opens, revealing a scarred old man in a dirty white sweater. Pale brown eyes blink blearily out at them. The old man, presumably Biz, runs a hand over white-streaked hair and sighs.

“Eudi,” he greets. “What’s this about?”

“Kids. Need kitting up. Stuck here until our oh-so-generous corporate overlords decide they’ve worked off their debts for void-knows-what.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time,” Ruby pipes up. Biz looks at her. For the smallest of seconds, she swears she sees recognition in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it came.

“That’s honestly about what I expected.” Eudico sighs. “Yes, these two are humans, yes we already had this conversation, at this point I’m well beyond caring. Just get them kitted up and send them my way, quick as you can.”

“Just to clarify,” Biz says, “you want some kids kitted up to work in the mines. The very dangerous mines that kill stronger people regularly.”

“We haven’t had an incident in two weeks.”

Biz gives her a look. Softly, he says, “That’s not what either of us have an issue with here, Eudi, and you know it.”

Eudico returns it, fiercely at first, then with rapidly declining resolve. At last, she turns and mutters, “We’re not having this conversation right now. Have them ready at Loading Dock E in twenty.”

She leaves. Biz watches her go. After she’s rounded the corner, he sighs sadly and opens the door wider.

“Better not keep her waiting,” Biz says, with more than a hint of heaviness in his words. “Come on in. They call me Bishop. Certain people prefer ‘Biz.’ I’ll answer to either name.”

He turns around, and for the first time his tail is visible. It’s also white-streaked and fluffy, and in better circumstances Ruby might ask if it’s as soft as it looks. But there’s a few reasons why she isn’t doing that.

Yet.

“Right,” Blake says. “Thanks.”

Nora is the first to follow him in, followed by Blake and then Ruby. Ruby nudges Blake with an elbow and, when she looks over, mouths ‘do you think he’ll help us?’ and points at Biz.

Blake gives her a confused look. Ruby audibly sighs and whispers it just a teensy bit louder. She’s pretty sure that only faunus with extra ears have better hearing but, better safe than sorry.

“Maybe.” Blake shrugs. “If you want to try something, go for it. Just be careful.”

Ruby zooms forward with her semblance, taps Biz on the shoulder.

“So,” Ruby asks, “what was that ab—”

Something shatters. All eyes go to the hard floor, and the thing that just fell off a shelf and broke on it. It’s a picture frame, fallen on its face. Biz kneels, picks it up, and turns it over. The frame itself isn’t what broke, rather the glass that a single picture was behind. The picture is of a group of people. A somewhat younger but no less scarred Biz, a more hopeful Eudico, a scruffy-looking girl with black eyes and black hair that could be Blake’s older sister. A woman with whiskers that don’t quite call a cat to mind.

There’s others there, but Biz picks it up and holds it for a moment. It clearly means a lot to him.

“Oh no,” Ruby whispers, aghast, “I’m so sorry, I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Biz replies. Still holding the frame, he closes his eyes. At first, nothing happens. Then, shards of glass rise from the floor, fit themselves neatly back into place. Biz opens his eyes, and the frame is whole again.

He sets it back on the shelf and adds, “This isn’t as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate you not knocking anything else breakable over. Follow me.”

“Okay.”

What isn’t a surprise is that the group with two of the most talkative people Ruby knows, herself included, only manages to stay quiet for another few seconds. What _is_ a surprise is that Nora beats her to asking her question again.

“Sooooo, Mr. Bishop. Biz? Bizhop.” Nora shrugs carelessly. “What was that about?”

“Nothing you need to know about,” Biz says, just a little too quickly. “As I said. Best not to keep Eudico waiting. I’m _assuming_ she means the thoroughly lackluster equipment that passes for safety gear in these parts, I should have something that’ll fit you kids in the back somewhere.”

He keeps going. Ruby moves to follow him, only to find someone’s grabbed her by the hood from behind. She turns, finds Blake grabbed the back of Nora’s shirt similarly, and is looking at them both with an almost calculated look in her eyes.

“This is who we’re looking for, I’m sure of it,” Blake whispers. “Had to be connected with Vox Faunus at the very least. He might even have been the leader.”

“Might?” Nora hisses back. “We’re banking on a _might?_ ”

“He’s hiding something. Obviously not hiding the fact that he’s a faunus, so that’s out, and I knew all of the White Fang’s contacts inside the mines, so he’s not one of theirs. I guess we haven’t really seen a lot of workers here yet, but trust me on this: he’s older than the average. People tend to die or leave before that.”

“So what do we do?” Ruby asks. “Can’t exactly go ‘hey, we think you might have been a part of some group that used to hate the SDC, we hate them too, can you help us?’ Or, I guess we could, but. Maybe not the best idea.”

“Definitely not the best idea. I guess… just keep asking him questions?”

“What about that Eudico lady? She seemed... nice.”

“One way of putting it,” Nora agrees. “Definitely _not_ the words I would have used.”

“She’s an option too.” Blake’s ears flick irritably. “She reminds me of my parents, when they… well. They left the White Fang before me. I remember them being just so, so tired of everything. Especially Mom.”

Ruby honestly isn’t sure if Blake’s past came up with Nora’s team before. But if it hasn’t, Nora’s taking it well. She hums to herself, nods to herself, asks the others, “So what does that mean?”

“It means that we should _really_ try to get Bishop to open up before we try anything else.”

As if on cue, Biz calls back, “Are you kids coming?”

“Yeah!” 

In a matter of seconds, Ruby’s sped with her semblance to catch up. She’s more careful this time, she does _not_ knock anything down, and she rematerializes into herself just in time for Biz to turn around and see her coming.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly.

Biz nods a greeting. “That is an… interesting semblance.”

“So’s yours!”

Biz smiles, slightly. “Thank you. It is very useful.”

“Do most miners have their auras unlocked?” Ruby asks, partially because she’s genuinely curious.

“Some. Not a lot. It really depends on what you did before you wound up in the mines.” As Biz talks, he reaches for a box, pulls it down, begins to pull assorted belts and tools out of it. “There’s those that grew up here, lived all their lives here, and odds are, they’ll die here too. Welcome to the mines. Not sure what Eudico’s playing at, but—”

“We were trying to get into Atlas,” Blake says. “Had the bright idea to try to avoid the military by landing in SDC territory. I think you can see how well that went.”

Biz snorts. “I know how that goes from experience.”

Ruby looks at Blake. Blake looks at Ruby. Ruby looks at Nora. Nora looks at Ruby. And, at last, they all look at Biz.

“I’m… going to take a wild guess you’re not one of those people who lived their whole lives here.”

“Oh, no.” Biz smiles thinly. “I’ve had other jobs before. A huntsman, once.”

“That’s great!” Ruby exclaims. “We’re training to be huntresses!”

“Or we were, at Beacon,” Blake adds. Biz makes a face of understanding. “Where did you attend?”

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Biz’s tail starts to wag. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“Pff, no, we can believe a lot these days.” Ruby waves a hand dismissively. Then, more seriously, she says, “Try us.”

“I was once the Headmaster of Shade Academy,” Biz says, and _wow_ okay he’d had a point about not believing him. “I'd attended there, worked in Vacuo my whole life, and eventually got promoted all the way to the top. But then I was approached by someone intending to corrupt that position... someone I couldn't well, say no to. So, I faked my death and moved to Atlas.”

“And got a job working in the _dust mines?!_ _”_ Nora. She also has a point.

“Well…” Biz sighs. “Yes and no. Have you ever heard of a group called Vox Faunus? A civil rights group that was based here, once upon a time. I used my huntsman skills for them. But they've been gone for years now. Even though we could really use Vox again about now.”

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, _wait._ Back up a moment.” Ruby holds up her hands. “You were the headmaster? Of _Shade Academy?_ Does that mean you know about…”

She hesitates. Blake gives her a noncommittal noise. Nora gives her a thumbs-up. Ruby takes a deep breath, lets it out, and the words come flooding out with it.

“We’ve been working since Professor Ozpin since the Fall of Beacon,” Ruby blurts out all at once, and Biz drops the bag he’d been holding. He moves to pick it up, wordlessly, but without taking his eyes off her. “We had a lamp that we brought to Atlas. It was confiscated when we were thrown in here.”

“A blue lamp, with gold ornamentation,” Blake adds, as if there’s any confusion at this point as to what they’re talking about. “We got it at Haven Academy.”

 _“Brothers,_ ” Biz swears vehemently. “You had one of the Relics. The good news is, it’s unlikely to be disturbed. However, it’ll also be exceedingly difficult for you to get to. Especially without weapons, which I suppose have been confiscated as well.”

“Yep.” Nora pops the P. “Fun times.”

“We need to get the lamp back,” Ruby continues. “And we need to get it to General Ironwood. Do you think you could help us?”

Biz sets down the bag he had been holding entirely. He pinches his forehead with a sigh, and leans back against his worktable. His entire posture seems to scream _why me?_

“That’s not something I’d want to see fall into the wrong hands,” Biz says at last. “James having it is better than the alternative. If you’re Oz’s newest team, that means you’re trustworthy. So there is something I can tell you. Vox Faunus was once run by Eudico.”

Nora, tapping her foot impatiently, freezes. So does Ruby. So does Blake, and beside the distant hum of heavy machinery, it’s the quietest the room’s been since they got here. Not quite quiet enough for a pin to drop. But close.

“Yes, _that_ Eudico, the one that brought you here,” Biz continues. “She was the voice of the resistance, and we _need Vox back._ Be subtle about it. But, if you can give her a nudge in the right direction, all the faunus here would be very grateful.”

“And then you’ll help us get the lamp back,” Nora finishes. “Right?”

“Confiscated materials are heavily guarded, and patrolled regularly. Alone, and with short notice? It would be folly. Let me put it this way: you need Vox back too, or you’d be better off not trying.”

Biz looks between the three girls. He forces a friendly-ish smile. “Let’s get you set up. If I know Eudico, she won’t have anything dangerous planned for you, but she won’t take it well if I kept you this long and didn’t even give you gear.”

* * *

“Hello, Father,” Weiss greets in a dull monotone.

“Weiss. My own prodigal daughter.” Jacques Schnee, steepling his fingers, looks up from his desk. “How kind of you to return home, where you belong.”

“You say that like I had any choice in the matter. Which I didn’t. Kidnapping? _Really?_ People will talk. And we both know you don’t want that.”

“No. I don’t think they will.” Her father smiles a cruel smile. “As far as anyone outside my employment knows, Weiss Schnee is still tragically missing. I do believe you may remain that way for a while longer.”

It hits her, all at once, what he’s implying. “You can’t,” she tries. “You wouldn’t—”

No. No, he absolutely would, and it’s taking every bit of willpower she has not to scream, or to run away. There’s nowhere she could even run _to_.

“I wouldn’t _what?_ Please. Do tell me, what it is that I wouldn’t do. Or rather, what it is you _think_ that I wouldn’t do.”

“I—”

“There’s plenty of things you could do.” 

That’s Yang’s hand on her shoulder, Yang’s voice ringing through the room. Yang, who now has her father’s attention. Oh no. Shit, shit, _shit._

Her father furrows his brow in what could be confusion, or concern, or apprehension. He glares at Yang. 

“Who,” he says warily, “are _you_ supposed to be?”

“Me?” Yang laughs, takes a step forward, then another. “Name’s Yang Xiao Long. I’m one of Weiss’ teammates from Beacon. Someone who actually cares about her, unlike certain other people in this room who will not be named.”

Will not be named, but Weiss doesn’t need to look at Yang to know she’s glaring at him. And it is appreciated.

“How _dare_ you. I have half a mind to—”

“She’s stronger than you think. She’s one hell of a lot stronger than you, for both putting up with you and for becoming her own woman in spite of you. Like, _damn,_ Jackie. Can I call you Jackie?”

“No, you may not.”

“Okay, Jackie. I _knew_ living with you must not have been _Schneezy_ , but—”

Weiss audibly sighs.

“Weiss, you said no _bad_ puns, that one was pretty punderful if I do say so myself,” Yang justifies, and doesn’t look back to see her teammate rolling her eyes. “Anyway. Weiss is stronger than you’ll ever be.”

Her father narrows his eyes. “Who are you again? And what, may I ask, are you doing here?”

“Moral support. You _could_ just kick me out, but I don’t think you’ll do that.”

“Really? Why.”

“You kick me out, a _lot_ of people are going to find out that you’re holding your own _adult_ daughter hostage. Which, I’m _pretty_ sure is illegal. So? I’m sticking around. You want her, you’re getting both of us.”

“And _what_ are you to her?”

For the first time, Yang turns to look at her. She beams a sunny grin and reaches out a hand. Weiss takes it, hesitantly at first and then gripping it like a lifeline. She remembers, suddenly, what Yang had leaned in and whispered right before they entered her father’s office.

_I have an idea, but it’ll only work if you play along. Just imagine you’re talking to Ruby and not me._

“I’m her girlfriend, of course,” Yang says completely matter-of-factly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

Weiss has to hold herself back from making the the strangled noise her father _does_ make, if for entirely different reasons. She should have seen this coming. She really, _really_ should have seen this coming. Suddenly, the remark about Ruby makes a lot of sense.

Yang’s not one to talk, she’s been dancing around Blake since their first day at Beacon.

“Yes,” Weiss agrees, and has to keep herself from stomping on Yang’s foot. “I’m her girlfriend. And her teammate. We’re dating. Also, Father, I’m a lesbian. Fun fact.”

Two of those things are completely true. The others aren’t, but her father doesn’t need to know that, and she’s pretty sure he would dislike Ruby marginally less. Of course, that would require feelings to actually be requited and Ruby to be here and not, hopefully, _well_ away from anything remotely pertaining to the Schnee Dust Company.

Weiss would be pleasantly surprised to see that Jacques Schnee, all around scum of the earth, father who isn’t even worth dignifying with that name, and scourge to the name he married into, is currently turning an undignified shade of maroon. As it is, she’s pleased, but _certainly_ not surprised.

Emboldened, Weiss turns to Yang and, cupping her face in her free hand, she kisses her. As it turns out, Yang isn’t a bad kisser, and is _certainly_ better than any and all of the boys her father tried to set her up with over the years. But it’s pretty clear from the way Yang pulls back, just a little, that she too would rather be kissing someone else.

Fortunately, they don’t have to keep it up for long. Jacques stands, slams his hands onto his desk, and shouts, _“STOP!”_

They pull apart. Weiss looks at him and says, perhaps a bit more cheekily than she should, “Are we making you uncomfortable, Father? Perhaps you should have left me alone.”

“You honestly think you can make me uncomfortable.” Jacques—because at this point, she’ll only dignify him with the name of Father when speaking to him, frankly Yang’s depressed uncle would make a better parent than he would—laughs unconvincingly. “I’ll deal with you undignified... _girls,_ later. Whitley!”

The door opens. Whitley peers around it, not at all trying to conceal the fact that he was eavesdropping. “Yes, Father?”

“Show them to their room. I see no purpose in having them occupy two rooms when these two have so clearly demonstrated they can share.” His lip curls in visible distaste as he returns his attention to Yang, then to Weiss. “You will be staying here for the foreseeable future. I can keep you here for the rest of your miserable lives, if need be.”

“Is that a threat?” Weiss asks.

“No. It’s a promise. And despite what you may think, I am _not_ in the habit of breaking my promises.”

* * *

“Welcome, Jaune Arc and Lie Ren,” Penny announces, “to Atlas Academy! I’ll take you to General Ironwood. Follow me!”

Penny beams at Jaune and Ren, then skips ahead. The nice lady they had brought to Atlas with them had declined to come, citing a need for her own dear father to recalibrate her eyes. Penny had not spent enough time around her to learn her name, but she seemed nice, and not at all worried about Penny not being a real girl—unlike much of the world outside Atlas.

Or so Penny has been told. Of course, Ruby Rose is a notable example of why Ironwood may be wrong, and that very much extends to her friends. Her friends, who were under the impression that Penny had been completely and permanently destroyed in Amity Colosseum by their former teammate, one Pyrrha Nikos.

Penny is… relieved. To know they bear no ill will for the death of their teammate. She is also relieved, if less so, to know that her first friend Ruby is here, somewhere. In Atlas. Perhaps more specifically in Mantle.

She’s _here_ and Penny is _beyond_ excited to see her again. Penny is also, however… what’s the word? Apprehensive. Jaune and Ren had believed her to be dead. If they did, it’s a perfectly logical conclusion to assume that the rest of their friends _also_ assumed there was no coming back for her. Following that logic, Ruby certainly believes the same.

“Have you been able to send anything to your friends?” Penny asks as they walk through the halls. 

_To Ruby,_ is the unspoken addition to that spoken sentence.

“Actually sending, yes,” Jaune says. “No sign of whether they’re receiving anything. Neither of us have gotten anything back.”

“They may be in trouble,” Ren agrees unhappily, with the most words at once Penny has heard him speak all day.

“General Ironwood will be able to find them,” Penny says in what she hopes is reassurance.

Jaune looks at Ren. Ren looks at Jaune. Confused, Penny opens her mouth to question this when she receives a ping.

The perks of not being a real girl: Penny will never need a scroll to communicate. She reads the message, sends one of her own back, and turns on her heel to face the half of Team JNPR that is here presently.

“The General knows you are here,” Penny tells them. “He is relieved you are here, if… concerned about your method of arrival.”

“We definitely didn’t steal a ship,” Jaune says quickly.

Penny blinks at him, processes this. Then she smiles. “Your secret is safe with me, Jaune.”

He looks surprised. Then guilty. Then grateful, although the guilt is lingering longer than it should. “Thank you.”

Penny nods. “The General says he will be busy for the foreseeable future dealing with a pair of apprehended individuals attempting to sneak into Atlas. Nothing to do with you. However, he _has_ directed me to introduce you to the Ace Operatives in the meantime. This way!”

They turn, head down a corridor with a briefing room at the end of it.

“You’ve mentioned these Ace Operatives a couple times now,” Jaune says as Penny opens the door. “Who _are_ they?”

“Jaune Arc and Lie Ren, huntsmen in training formerly of Beacon Academy,” Penny introduces them to the Ace Ops first. 

For the sake of his dignity, she pretends not to notice that Marrow’s tail has begun to wag. Or rather, she does notice, but does not act on it.

Clover steps forward with a neutral, but friendly smile. He extends a hand to Jaune. “Captain Clover Ebi of the Ace Ops. A pleasure. General Ironwood spoke highly of you, although… we _did_ think there would be more than two of you.”

“They got separated from the rest of their friends,” Penny supplies. 

“Yeah, we did,” Jaune says awkwardly. “Uh. Sir.” 

Jaune takes Clover’s hand equally awkwardly and shakes it. He really doesn’t need to bother with the formalities—once you get to know him, Penny has found, Captain Clover Ebi is really just like everyone else. If _slightly_ eccentric when it comes to puns about luck that, by most definitions, would be considered terrible.

(Penny doesn’t mind the luck puns. In fact, she happens to like them, but struggles with conveying that fact. She tried to copy one of his signature winks once and the man whose semblance is good luck tripped over his own feet.)

The other Ace Operatives introduce themselves one by one—Harriet, Elm, Vine, Marrow. Then Clover continues, “The General is going to be occupied for the foreseeable future, but he’ll want to find your friends before they get into trouble. Give us names and descriptions and we’ll see what we can do.”

“Got it.”

Even though Penny has lengthy files saved internally on all of Ruby’s friends, she pays attention as well, adding Jaune’s descriptions to said lengthy files. They are, after all, concise and _reasonably_ accurate.

Ruby Rose: short, red cape, reddish black hair, silver eyes, has a scythe as big as she is that is also a gun, very enthusiastic about a lot of things.

Weiss Schnee: short, would be even shorter without heels, white hair, blue eyes, blue dress, red scarf, very pretty, seems cold but is actually really nice as long as you aren’t Jaune trying to flirt. It seems he’s learned that lesson.

Blake Belladonna: tall(er), cat faunus with kitty ears, black hair, wears a lot of dark colors in general, gold eyes, quiet but nice, kind of scary sometimes. Very cool though.

Yang Xiao Long: tall, yellow hair, do _not_ fuck with the hair, punches her problems, definitely not straight, purple eyes usually, red eyes when she’s angry or using her semblance, REALLY LIKES FIRE, the furthest thing from stealthy.

Nora Valkyrie: orange hair, VERY LOUD— _oh, like Elm?_ Vine says innocently, and he isn’t wrong from what Penny remembers of her—has a very big hammer, kicks ass and takes names, may or may not be dating Ren but Jaune’s not sure at this point. 

(Ren mumbles a quick denial surprisingly quickly.)

Then he starts to describe someone Penny has certainly _not_ met before. Someone younger than Ruby, a young boy with scruffy dark hair and hazel eyes. Someone who likes green, someone who Jaune is clearly leaving out some details on _how_ exactly someone barely old enough for a primary huntsman academy joined their group.

Someone named Oscar Pine. Despite the fact that Penny has never heard the name before in her life, something about it _does_ seem familiar. At first, it seems like the Ace Ops are exchanging glances for the same reason. Then, Clover opens his mouth again, and Penny realizes no, it’s for an entirely different reason.

“This… Oscar,” Clover says slowly. “Does he typically wear orange gloves, a red belt, and a green coat? He’s not from Beacon, is he?”

“No, he’s not,” Jaune says with a laugh. “He sort of… joined up with us? It’s kinda complicated. But um. Yes. That’s what he usually wears, does that mean you—”

“We... might have run into him. Were there any others with you that you haven’t mentioned yet?”

“Well, Maria, but she stayed down in Mantle. And Qrow. Ruby and Yang’s uncle.”

Clover frowns. “Don’t suppose this ‘Qrow’ has dark hair, red cape, uses a scythe, is unreasonably handsome, and would have been with your friend Oscar?”

“Unreasonably handsome?” Ren repeats under his breath.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Jaune says, if a tad uneasily. “Why?”

Clover looks to Harriet. Harriet shakes her head and looks to Elm, who looks to Vine, who looks to Marrow.

“I’m not telling the General we arrested the wrong people,” Marrow protests. “How many people can there be that stole a ship from Argus, anyway? Have you _met_ Special Operative Cordovin?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Ren says a bit louder than perhaps he should. All eyes go to him. “It was Jaune’s idea.”

* * *

“I swear, if I have to sit through one more council meeting like that…”

Oscar recognizes who’s speaking as the voice carries down the hall, it’s just... not from this life. Not from his _own_ memories. And he can’t quite place a name. But he risks a glance at Qrow and sees the huntsman’s visibly stiffened.

“Jimmy,” Qrow says under his breath.

Ironwood. _General_ Ironwood, who is more likely than not responsible for their arrests in the first place. Maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding. But, considering their track record with bad luck, this _probably_ isn’t a big misunderstanding and they might be screwed.

“Please don’t call him that to his face, I’m literally begging you,” Oscar whispers without much hope.

Before Qrow can respond, almost certainly with a no, someone steps out in front of them from a side doorway. Stress beard, straight posture, and the voice from earlier: Ironwood. Oscar pretends he knows that from the broadcast they’d seen on the way in and not from… someone else.

At his heel is a tall woman with white hair and a rapier at her hip. Neither spares the prisoners a glance at the moment, or their guards. The guards exchange glances. Oscar isn’t quite willing to speak up.

Qrow, on the other hand, is. He clears his throat and goes, “Jimmy, Ice Queen!”

Oscar facepalms so hard that his aura breaks.

In his defense, his aura had already been low from the combination of fighting off those Sabyrs and recovering from getting past Cordovin. Also in his defense, he’s starting to think that he would have been better off on his own.

Both Ironwood and the ‘Ice Queen’ (related to Weiss, maybe?) stop in their tracks. She turns on her heel, murder in her eyes.

“Qrow,” she greets icily.

“Winter,” Qrow replies. 

Another W name, similar aesthetic, same nickname? Definitely related to Weiss, probably too young to be her mother. Sister, maybe?

Ironwood clears his throat. His gaze goes to Oscar, his brow furrows in confusion. Suddenly self-conscious, Oscar waves shyly and says nothing. 

“What are they doing in binds?” Ironwood asks, looking to the guards.

“The Ace Operatives gave us orders to bring them to you, sir,” one of them says helpfully. “Captain Ebi believed they were the individuals that flew in on a stolen ship.”

“He’s usually not wrong.” Ironwood strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Qrow. I am glad to see you, but how did you get here?”

“Stolen ship,” Qrow supplies a little too cheerfully.

“Of _course_ you would—” Winter cuts herself off with a scowl. “Get those off and leave us. Qrow Branwen is not a threat.”

Oscar offers his hands to one of the guards. Once the bolas are off, he rubs his wrists some and looks to Qrow again. This is going… not terribly? So far.

Of course, the moment he thinks that Qrow comments, “Thanks, Ice Queen. Never knew you had it in you.”

“That was not a compliment.”

“I’m taking it as one.”

Ironwood audibly sighs. The last of the guards walks out of earshot, and he says, quietly, “Both of you. Stop this now. We have all been through too much to needlessly antagonize each other.”

“I apologize.” Winter makes it abundantly clear by her refusal to look at Qrow just who she’s apologizing to.

“Now, Qrow. What on _earth_ possessed you to _steal a military airship_ to get here, and _why_ do you have a child with you?”

“I’m fifteen,” Oscar says. “And I’m—”

Qrow claps a hand over his mouth with a meaningful look at Winter. “Exactly. In my defense, it wasn’t my idea, and have _you_ tried stopping eight determined teenagers when they set their minds to something? Only reason _I’m_ here is ‘cause I wasn’t letting them do it alone. Speaking of alone…”

He looks at Ironwood meaningfully.

“She knows,” Ironwood says, at the same time something seems to occur to Winter. She steps forward and looks Qrow in the eyes, her own rapidly narrowing.

“My sister was with you,” Winter says, putting the ice back in Ice Queen with those five short words alone. “Where is she?”

“Uh,” Qrow says intelligently. “About that.”

“We got separated,” Oscar says. “We landed on the outskirts of Mantle in order to _not_ get arrested for stealing a ship. Near the mine district. Some of the guards there jumped us and we all ran in opposite directions.”

Despite her best efforts, Winter’s eyes go wide. She looks to Ironwood.

“No,” Ironwood says.

“With all due respect, he could have my _sister_ , General.”

“And we are in enough trouble with the council as it is. We can't make a move on a _might."_ Ironwood audibly sighs and returns her attention to Oscar. “But you. Counting you, eight could account for Teams RWBY and JNPR—”

“Yup,” Qrow agrees.

“But who _are_ you? You’re clearly too young to apply to any secondary huntsman academy and most primary ones, and…”

He trails off as Oscar holds out his— _Ozpin’s_ , not his—cane.

“My name’s Oscar. Oscar Pine.” He takes a deep breath.

 _She knows_ echoes in his head.

“I’m the next Ozpin. I’d… like some help with that, actually.”

* * *

“Loading Dock E is this way. Just keep going down this corridor, it’ll be the first door on your left,” Biz says. “However, we have a few minutes. Miss Rose.”

Ruby starts. Nora figures it’s because the _last_ person who called her Miss Rose… was also a headmaster, and Biz sounds kind of like him. Although Ozpin would be a former headmaster too now, currently stuck in a certain cute little boy’s head and thankfully staying quiet the last Nora saw of them.

She hopes Oscar’s doing okay. She isn’t sure she cares about Ozpin at this point, except that he had _better_ not hurt Oscar or she’s going to hit him, with Magnhild, so hard that the _original_ Oz can feel it. Ren is… probably fine! He’s always fine. Jaune will be fine as long as he’s not an idiot, which… he usually is. Stealing a plane was his idea, after all. It did work out in the end! But still. 

“Um, yeah, that’s me,” Ruby says quickly. “What’s up?”

“You’re a part of Ozpin’s newest team. Does that mean you know about…” Biz glances over his shoulder. The hallway is deserted except for them. Just like it was five minutes ago and probably five hours ago. “Her?”

“Salem. We know.”

Biz sighs, runs a shaky hand through his hair. It occurs to Nora then that the lighting’s slightly better here than it was in the storeroom. He’s even more scarred than she thought, and not just on his face.

“That would be who I meant before. One of _her_ people wanted me to switch sides. I couldn’t do it. So I fled. I haven’t spoken with Oz since then, or James for that matter.”

“She approached you _too?_ ” Nora exclaims.

Biz looks at her sharply. “What do you mean, _too?_ ”

“Professor Lionheart of Haven,” Blake supplies. “These two were there, I… wasn’t. But he betrayed Ozpin. He betrayed everyone.”

“He was _scared,_ ” Ruby says, but without much energy behind it.

“And he got what was coming to him.”

“Leonardo went to her side?” Biz asks, quietly, and gets three quick nods in confirmation. “I… wish I could say I’m surprised. After what I did, Haven would seem like the easiest target. Beacon had Oz himself, and Atlas… has its own difficulties. James, for one.”

“But _we_ got into Mantle,” Nora says. “I’m sure _some_ of our friends didn’t get caught. If Salem wanted to get into Atlas, she could have before the borders were closed. She could already be here.”

“Bishop,” Blake says evenly. “If you were friends with Ironwood, why wouldn’t you talk to him?”

“I was able to do more good here. A lot more good.” Biz gets a faraway look in his eyes. “For all James said about protecting Atlas, he was only talking about his city in the sky. Mantle is bad enough if you’re human. I had no idea until I came here. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

He focuses again on the group and continues, sadly, “I can only do so much on my own. It is never enough. I won’t keep you any longer.”

The three watch him go. 

“He was approached by Salem too,” Ruby says miserably. “You both heard that too.”

“Sure did,” Nora agrees. “We’d better go find Eudico.”

They start walking, but not before Blake says, softly, “If he was approached, and Lionheart was approached… Salem would know she wouldn’t get anywhere with Ozpin himself. But what about Ironwood?”

What about Ironwood, indeed? Nobody answers her at first. They find the door fairly quickly, but nobody moves to open it. At last, Nora reaches for it through wordless agreement.

“We should be careful,” Ruby says. “Keep the Relic with us, even if we think he’s safe.”

“We’ve got to get it back first,” Nora points out. “Well! One thing at a time.”

She opens it, and they file in, Nora first. She looks around. Loading Dock E is a large, spacious room that looks more like the interior of an entire warehouse. There’s a whole lot of crates stacked relatively neatly on the right side, the amount of crates graduating out to the middle of the room. On the left side are several opened garage doors, each one with a truck backed in so the beds are within the warehouse.

Eudico’s seated in the truckbed of the nearest one, legs hanging down and hands planted behind her back. She looks over, and Nora waves.

By the time Eudico reaches them—Nora realizes, suddenly, that she’s limping. Was she always limping?—it doesn’t take her long to look them up and down and nod to herself.

“So,” Eudico says at last. “You’re new to the mines. Obviously. That’s why we’re here.”

“We’re not actually in the mines,” Blake observes.

“Nope. Not until you’ve shown you can handle it without blowing yourself up. That’s what we do with everyone new here. Unfortunately, there’s been a _bit_ of a backlog here lately. That’s where we come in. Lift the boxes, load them on the trucks, I’ll send them off, and we keep going until all the dust is gone. Any questions?”

Ruby’s hand slides up, if a tad hesitantly. Nora throws hers up. Blake looks at the two of them, looks back at Eudico, and shakes her head as if to say _no, just these two._

“You first,” Eudico points with her thumb and finger. “Ruby, was it?”

“Yep! That’s me, Ruby Rose. Hi. So… those are some really big boxes,” Ruby tries, and gets a nonplussed nod. “How do we do this?”

“We all lift together. Should take us a couple hours tops. Do you have the same question… Nora?”

“Nora,” she agrees lightly. “I don’t have a question. Well, I technically do, but _really_ it’s more of an answer to Ruby. Is there anywhere I can access electricity nearby? Outlet, or…?”

“There’s one on the south wall.” Eudico points, but her eyes don’t leave Nora’s. “Why?”

“I have an idea. Ruby, your pin’s metal, right?”

Ruby nods wordlessly. She unhooks it and passes the metal emblem to Nora with a cheerful and understanding, “Here you go!”

“What are you kids trying to do?” Eudico asks.

“My semblance,” Nora says in way of explanation. “Ruby, Blake, if a minute passes and I don’t stop, drag me away please.”

As Nora jogs over, she swears she hears Eudico mutter something under her breath, just not what that something is. She pays it no mind. Instead, she crouches in front of the outlet, takes a deep breath, and sticks the point of Ruby’s pin into it.

It hurts. Obviously. It _always_ hurts, no matter how good Nora’s gotten at hiding it. But it’s always worth it. In a way, her semblance is almost like Yang’s, just more specific and stronger. One of these days, she’s going to charge herself up to her max, and Yang’s going to do the same, and they’re going to see who’s stronger, and it’s going to be Nora.

For now, she’s sticking a fork into an outlet, except with Ruby’s pin instead of a fork. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, after all. In Nora’s case, and when it comes to electricity, that saying is pretty literal.

Even as her aura drains, she can feel herself getting stronger, if only for a little while. Definitely long enough to carry some crates. At last, she jerks back, blinking hard and stumbling a little. Breathing hard, she turns, and tosses Ruby’s pin back to her.

Ruby catches it, pins it back to her cloak, and flashes Nora a grin. Nora returns it.

“Your semblance is something to do with electricity,” Eudico guesses. “Does it directly make you stronger, or…?”

Nora doesn’t answer verbally. Instead, she marches over to the nearest crate, wedges her hands under it, and _lifts_.

“Where do you want it?” Nora calls as she holds the crate of dust high. She can’t exactly look behind her right now, and even with a boost this isn’t exactly easy, but she can definitely do it.

Of course she can.

 _“Void,”_ Eudico swears vehemently. “You’re a bright spark, and no mistake. Just back up for now, slowly, I’ll direct you. Red, Blake, make sure you’re not in her way.”

* * *

Whitley slams the door behind him as he leaves. For a few moments, neither Yang nor Weiss speak. Both girls look around apprehensively.

“I’m guessing this is your room, huh,” Yang says. When Weiss’ head snaps around to look at her, she motions over her shoulder at the door. “It’s very… empty.”

“They fixed the window,” Weiss observes, walking over to it as she does. “Not that it would be _hard_ for us to break, even without our weapons, but. Still. My father really does spare no expense in keeping up appearances.”

Yang glances at the door. It’s still shut, and she didn’t spend all those years between Signal and Beacon training for nothing. Annoying brother is gone. She looks at Weiss, and judging by the look in her eyes, she’s come to the same conclusion.

There’s silence for another moment, then two and three. Then, they burst out laughing.

“The look on your father’s _face_ , oh my _gods!_ Weiss, he looked like he was going to _explode!_ ”

“I can’t believe you _did that_ , I can’t believe _I_ did that, I can’t believe he _bought it!_ ”

Yang’s still grinning even as her laughter comes to an end. She says, seemingly carelessly, “Well, we _are_ both lesbians, aren’t we? Although I’m pretty sure you’d rather be kissing my sister.”

“And you’d rather be kissing Blake, but we can’t all get what we want. Especially not when my father is involved.” Weiss giggles. “The look on his _face_ , you’re right, that was beautiful. I’ve literally never seen him so angry in my _life_. Mainly because he usually shuts it down before it gets that far.”

“Does he?” Yang starts laughing all over again, even harder this time. “Well, like you said! _We can’t all get what we want!_ Money can’t buy you everything, Jackie!”

Covering her mouth, Weiss fails to completely muffle a thoroughly undignified snort. “I legitimately,” she has to stop talking just to breathe, “I legitimately can’t believe you called him _Jackie._ What were you _thinking?_ ”

“Well,” Yang flops onto Weiss’ bed backwards. She stretches an arm up to the ceiling briefly, before letting it fall next to her as well and closing her eyes. “I was thinking, alright. What pissed off our dear Ice Queen—”

“Yang!”

“—back before she got the stick up her ass removed? Well, that still pisses off the Weiss Queen. Nicknames always do. Although you don’t seem to have quite as much of a problem with that one.”

Yang lazily cracks open an eye to see Weiss staring down at her.

“That one, I’ll take,” Weiss says with a small huff. 

“Alright, Weiss Queen. So then I was like, hey, this guy is _super formal_ right? Filthy rich old guy, probably homophobic, rich old assholes generally are. So I figured, I’m gonna be as flamingly gay and irreverent as possible. I think it worked.”

Weiss moves out of her field of view, but Yang can feel her sitting on the bed too in a few moments. “It definitely worked. I think it worked a little too well, to be honest.”

“Eh. He can’t keep us here forever.”

Weiss sighs. “He certainly thinks he can. He took our scrolls and our weapons, the only people we’ll be anywhere near are him, my snitch brother—”

“Whitley Snitchley.”

Weiss audibly smacks her forehead with a hand. Yang snickers, and repeats, “Whitley Snitchley. Or Shitley Whitley, actually I like that one _much_ better.”

“Him,” Weiss continues, “and my mother. Who… how do I put this?”

“Puts Uncle Qrow’s drinking habits to shame, you said earlier.” Yang stares up at the ceiling and frowns. “I know it’s way too much to hope everyone made it out alright… but you know what, I’d settle for knowing my family’s alright. Ruby, Blake, and Uncle Qrow.”

“There is literally no way Father’s goons caught Uncle Qrow, he can turn into a bird.” Weiss pauses briefly. “Wait. Sorry. He’s your uncle and Ruby’s uncle, not mine.”

“Eh, he’s basically our entire group’s uncle at this point, you’re fine. Sides, he’ll be your uncle for real once you and my baby sister get married.”

Yang puts her arms behind her head and looks over at Weiss. She’s just in time to see her teammate turn a bright cherry red. Weiss huffs and slings an arm across her face in an attempt to hide her rising blush. It’s an attempt, Yang’ll give her that, but it’s a shitty one.

“Shut up,” Weiss mutters.

“I could. I won’t. Honestly, why don’t you just tell her how you feel already? She _clearly_ likes you back and then some.”

“It isn’t that simple!”

“It isn’t, is it? Fine. Give me one reason why it isn’t that simple.”

“Blake Belladonna.”

Yang sucks in a breath. “Okay. Point made. But I couldn’t exactly have asked her out on the trip to Atlas, we literally _just_ fought for our lives against her insane ex. Really not the right atmosphere. Neither was the about five minutes of freedom we had in Mantle before we were jumped. And now I obviously can’t, and neither can you. But I’m not convinced you would ask Ruby out even if she was here right now.”

“And you _would?_ ”

Yang is saved from answering by the sound of the door opening again. Fortunately, because Weiss may again have a point and anything she throws at Weiss about being a useless lesbian is just going to be thrown back at her. Unfortunately, because that means someone’s here.

Shitty father or snitchy brother. Pick your poison. Except, of course, that there’s no choice in who’s already here. Personally, Yang’s putting her money on snitchy brother.

Weiss audibly gasps. “Mother?”

...oh. Right. Yang forgot about her alcoholic mother. She mentally relinquishes her money to whatever entity governs bets with one’s self, and sits up, and turns.

Mom Schnee is pretty, Yang can see where Weiss got it from. She’s got the same long white hair and the same eyes. But, where Weiss is—despite frequent protests to the contrary—very emotional and clearly cares about a lot of things, Mom Schnee’s eyes are… empty.

Yang remembers, suddenly, the look in Uncle Qrow’s eyes at the farm. Ruby had all but dragged him out of the farmhouse and onto the trailer, and Yang hadn’t spent much time looking around once they were able to go, she’d just hopped on Bumblebee and gotten everyone out of there. He’d looked empty too.

Mom Schnee has the same look in her eyes, and there aren’t even any stupid soul-sucking Apathy around to prompt it. Or maybe there are some around, who knows. But Yang’s pretty sure she’d be feeling a lot more hopeless and a lot less pissed if there were any of those things here.

Considering what Yang already knows about her: this might just actually be what she’s like. Damn. Weiss had a point: Uncle Qrow might be a sad alcoholic, and Mom Schnee might be a sad alcoholic, but Uncle Qrow at least didn’t carry around entire bottles of… is that wine, or is that vodka? _Damn._ Looks like wine but _still._

“Hi,” Yang says brightly, sticking out a hand and making sure it’s her prosthetic one. “I’m Yang. You must be Mom Schnee!”

Weiss audibly groans. “Yang, _please_.”

Mom Schnee focuses on her for a moment before nodding slowly. She doesn’t smile. “Yes. Hello, Yang. My name is Willow, but you may call me that if you’d like. Seeing as you and my daughter are, clearly, very close.”

“Oh. Father told you.”

“Not exactly.” Willow smiles without a hint of any remotely positive emotion in it. She takes a long swig from her bottle of wine, then returns to cradling it in her arms. “How nice it must be to have a girlfriend… I’ve always wished I had a girlfriend instead of Jacques.”

Weiss audibly snorts. “Literally anyone would be better than him.”

Willow chugs more alcohol. Then, she looks at Yang’s still outstretched hand, and carefully takes it. Shakes it.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Weiss says.

Yang detaches her arm and, far too cheerfully, takes a step back. Willow looks at it for a moment before wordlessly offering Yang back her arm. She takes it, fits it back into the socket, and says conspiratorially, “Don’t tell anyone I can detach it, otherwise your shitty husband might decide to disarm me completely.”

“Yang, _no.”_

“Disarm,” Willow repeats. For a few moments, Yang can almost see the faintest hint of a smile. “I won’t tell him. Weiss.”

Weiss snaps to attention. “Yes, Mother?”

“I… wish you weren’t here. Either of you.” She drinks. “But, seeing as you are: I would like to know what she is like.”

“Oh, Yang? She’s an idiot.”

Yang opens her mouth to deny that, then shuts it again. Then she says, sheepishly, “Fair.”

“No, I don’t mean Yang. Weiss, tell me about her sister… Ruby, is it?”

Weiss manages to make a choking noise not sound completely undignified. She doesn’t offer up an answer, though, so Yang takes the opportunity for all it’s worth.

“Yeah, my sister’s named Ruby. She’s a little shit and I love her.” 

Yang grins as Weiss punches her in the shoulder. Worth it.

“You’re not _wrong_ ,” Weiss says, “but she’s _my_ little shit.” 

“She would be if you didn’t put the useless lesbian in useless lesbian!”

Weiss ignores her. “She’s unbearably stubborn, so optimistic it hurts, and really cute. She comes up with these completely harebrained plans that shouldn’t work, not in a million years, but somehow they _do_ and it’s amazing. She’s amazing. I, uh. Yeah. That’s Ruby, our fearless team leader. How did you…?”

“I’m not completely out of touch with the rest of the world,” Willow says. Her frown deepens and she adds, quieter, “I wasn’t, in any case. And I… _did_ hear some of your conversation, before I came in.”

“Better you eavesdropping than Shitley Whitley.” Yang earns a somewhat judgmental look.

“While I can’t say that’s an inaccurate moniker, that _is_ one of my children you are talking about.”

“Yeah. He’s a little shit, and not in a good way like Ruby.” She adds, after a moment, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. How could he not turn out like that? He was left here, alone, with… us.” Willow drinks more wine. “Your other teammate, Blake?”

“Yeah,” Yang agrees. She studies Willow’s face as she says, slowly, “She’s a cat faunus. She has the _cutest_ kitty ears, and they wiggle sometimes when she’s happy and they’re so _expressive_ and I love her. She’s so badass and pretty and she’s really sweet once you get to know her, like someone else I know, love ya too Weiss.”

Willow’s expression doesn’t change when Yang mentions Blake is a faunus, which is either a good sign or a really, really bad sign and she completely misjudged Mom Weiss. Eventually, she says, “She sounds very nice. As does your Ruby.”

“Really? I. Of course I knew you’d like her, Mom, but.” Weiss coughs hurriedly into a fist. “Yeah.”

Willow walks to the wall beside the door, then turns and leans against it. She takes a long, slow drink. As she does, she lets herself slide down the wall, and closes her eyes.

She sets down the wine bottle on the floor next to her. It’s almost empty, but it’s got a few good swigs left in it.

“Mom? I mean. Mother?”

“Mom is fine.”

“Are… you okay?”

Yang gives Weiss a look. The look is supposed to mean something along the lines of _of course she’s not okay, do you see how much she’s drinking???_ But. Maybe it gets misinterpreted, or maybe Weiss just completely ignores it.

Regardless of what happens, or what doesn’t happen, Mom Schnee eventually says, softly, “I’ve never been okay… but I’m glad you two are getting the chance to be.”

“What do you mean?”

It’s probably for the best that Weiss is the only one asking the questions now. Yang has a sinking feeling about why Mom Schnee is so interested in their mostly-pining-so-far love lives, and if she’s right… she puts a hand on Weiss’ shoulder, gives it a comforting squeeze.

“You’re…” Willow sighs. “More than old enough to know, Weiss. I’m like you. Both of you. I love women… and only women. I don’t know why I married Jacques. I thought if, maybe, I tried a little harder… maybe I would grow to love him. Maybe he would grow to love me.”

She chugs the last of her wine, tucks the empty bottle under her arms, and stands slightly unsteadily.

“You can see,” she says, softly, “how well that ended. Please do not stay here any longer than you must.”

Weiss opens her mouth and shuts it. She seems to be at a loss for words. Yang, fortunately, has no such qualms. (Or she does, but she’s better at saving them for once Mom Schnee is gone.)

“The problem with that is that we have no good way out of here,” Yang says. “Weiss is basically on house arrest, and my options are stay on house arrest with her or be taken out with the trash. So… we can’t really leave.”

“No. I suppose you can’t.”

“If you want to help us leave,” Yang tries slightly harder this time, “you could try and get us our scrolls back. Maybe even our weapons. Scrolls would be a good start, though. With our weapons, we’d be... off with a shot?”

Yang weakly makes finger guns. Weiss audibly groans. Willow has no visible, nor audible reaction. Wordlessly, she turns, opens the door, and shuts it behind her.

“Isn’t there a gun in your arm?” Weiss asks, instead of asking about the mammoth in the room. Yang’s kind of surprised.

“Yeah, there is. But nobody needs to know that right now.” Yang looks at the door. “Guessing it would be illegal to kill Jackie on our way out.”

* * *

“Ozpin has gone completely silent.” Oscar stands tall and tries to mimic Ironwood’s authoritative stance. Hands clasped behind his back, posture the only straight thing about him, serious expression. “Nothing I do can provoke him into saying anything, _doing_ anything. If it wasn’t for everything seeming so… familiar, here, I’d think he was gone entirely.”

“That’s not normal,” Ironwood observes.

“And how,” Qrow asks, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, “do any of _us_ know what’s normal for him?”

“Because Ozpin _wouldn’t_ go to all this effort to come back just to disappear again. Not without a good reason.”

Qrow looks at Oscar. Oscar looks at Qrow.

“Well?” Oscar asks. “You going to stop us from telling them?”

No response from Ozpin. Ironwood and Winter are looking at him like he’s crazy again. Qrow pulls out his flask, then makes a face at it. He tucks the flask away without drinking and crosses his arms again.

Good for him.

“He’s talking to Oz,” Qrow says instead. “You want to tell ‘em, or should I?”

“I’ll do it.” Oscar takes a deep breath. “Ozpin hid… a lot of things. From you. From everyone. He wanted me to keep hiding them, but I… couldn’t.”

“Ozpin told his inner circle everything,” Ironwood says warily.

Oscar shakes his head. “Not even close. You deserve to know the truth. The _whole_ truth.”

Maybe, if the others were here, they might have disagreed. But Oscar is tired of lies, and one look at Qrow tells him that he feels the same. So, he tells Ironwood everything. All he remembers from Jinn’s explanation. Qrow fills in where his memory fails. If Oz wants him to stop, he doesn’t do anything to make him stop.

At last, Oscar says, “The spirit of the Relic of Knowledge, Jinn… she told Ozpin. Or a past version of him. He asked, ‘How can I destroy Salem?’ The answer was…”

He shivers and continues, softer, “‘You can’t.’ We brought the Relic to Atlas, but Ruby had it when we were separated. I don’t know where Ruby is. I don’t know where _anyone_ is except myself and Qrow. None of them are answering their scrolls.”

Qrow checks his briefly. “Well, now that I can check mine and I’m not, you know, tied up in the back of a prisoner transport? I have messages from a couple of the kids, at least. Hang on. I got this.”

“Not my sister, or her teammates,” Winter guesses.

Qrow shakes his head as he types out a reply. “Hey, if we’d known we’d get a halfway decent reception from the military, we wouldn’t have tried our…” He sighs. “Never mind. Point is, have you seen Mantle lately? Place is a shithole. No offense.”

“We _have_ been concentrating all our forces on an… alternate plan. If Salem can’t be killed…”

Winter looks to Ironwood. He steeples his fingers, takes a deep breath, and lets it out again.

“Ozpin, or… whatever past incarnation of him that was,” Ironwood says after a long moment, "asked those exact words? ‘How can _I_ destroy Salem?’”

“Yeah,” Oscar says. “I mean. Yes. He did. Um. Sir.”

“And the answer was specifically, _‘you_ can’t’?”

Oscar just nods this time.

“Then there is still hope. The Relic of Knowledge told him that he, _specifically_ , couldn’t destroy her. That doesn’t mean that nobody can. Were there any… other questions left?”

“One more. But Ruby has the Relic, and… Qrow?”

“Nothing from her,” Qrow mutters, and he looks worried.

“We’ll find the rest of your friends,” Ironwood says firmly. He looks to Winter and adds, “We _will_ find your sister. First: Qrow, I’m going to need names and descriptions of the others you were traveling with. Any news on the ones you’re currently messaging?”

“Uh… yes and no. It’s definitely them. Jaune Arc and Lie Ren. Ren hasn’t responded yet, Jaune says they are together and… in Atlas apparently. Hang on, Ren just texted… _see you soon?_ ”

As if on cue, the doors open, and in comes none other than the cocky Horseshoe Man himself. He’s followed by some others in similar uniforms, a girl with orange hair he doesn’t recognize, and… 

“Oscar, Qrow!” Jaune greets. “Glad you made it here in… one piece?”

Qrow glares at him. “No thanks to your new friends.” He looks back at Ironwood and says, quietly, “Do _they_ know?”

“Everything that I did,” Ironwood says. He looks past them, greets his group with a nod, and says, “You may want to sit down. The Amity Project has just become even more important, and… there are some things you should all be made aware of.”

Horseshoe Man blinks. “Right,” he says. “Just to clarify: you _do_ know that they stole a military transport from Argus?”

Jaune protests, “Have you _met_ Cordovin?”

Ironwood audibly sighs. “Unfortunately,” he says, “yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qrow's text convo with Jaune, for anyone interested :)
> 
> _Me: hey is that really you kid, are you safe_
> 
> _Goldilocks: yeah, ren's with me, are you???_
> 
> _Me: probably. question: that temporary team you formed with my niece. what was it called._
> 
> _Goldilocks: it was called jnrr and ren was wrong._
> 
> _Me: yep definitely you_  
>    
> _Me: and for the record rnjr is actually a color_
> 
> _Goldilocks: whatever see you soon bird man_


	5. Part 1 Episode 3: Until the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a long day working in the SDC mines, Eudico takes BRN back to her apartment in Mantle for the night. Qrow misses his kids. Ruby and Blake can't sleep, and neither can Eudico. Weiss really doesn't like her brother, much to Yang's amusement. Ruby meets someone else tangled up in the puzzle that is Vox Faunus, and someone else entirely really, really hates a lot of things.

Eudico wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and says, with no small amount of exhaustion in her words, “I’m going to be honest with you here. Between the three of you, you’ve wiped out about a month’s worth of dust backlog that I wasn’t sure we’d ever catch up with. You kids did some good work today.”

“Thank you, Ms. Eudico,” Ruby chirps. “So what now?”

“Just Eudico. _Please._ ” She sighs, rubs her forehead with her hand and blinks some. Tired. Clearly. “I’m guessing the enforcers that brought you in didn’t explain how that worked.”

“They didn’t explain anything,” Blake says with more than a little bitterness, and still far less than the amount of bitterness she feels. “Just threw us in.”

“About what I expected. Most of us here—we just work here. Lot of people in debt to partner companies for prosthetics that barely work, but that’s separate. Mostly. Never mind that the only real employer for faunus in the kingdom is the SDC, _and_ that they’re the reason we need so many prosthetics in the first place. But every now and then, someone makes the mistake of trying to cross ‘em and getting caught. Then, you’re in debt directly to them.”

Eudico pokes the nearest girl—Nora, who is progressively looking more and more horrified—squarely in the chest. She continues, grimly, “That seems to be your situation, which means you don’t get paid until you’ve ‘worked off your debt.’ Could be here without pay for anywhere for a month to a year, longer if you piss ‘em off more.”

“That can’t be legal,” Nora says indignantly.

“Probably isn’t. Unfortunately, if you’re Jacques Schnee, laws aren’t laws, they’re suggestions that can be ignored at will.” She shakes her head, bites her lip, and says, “Enough about that. There’s supposed to be quarters onsite for situations like yours, but they’re not maintained and the heating doesn’t work half the time. And you’ve helped a lot. So, until I can get someone to fix the heating at least, you can stay at my place.”

* * *

Working with the military means, apparently, new clothes. They won’t catch Qrow complaining. His old outfit’s been through a hell of a lot even if he ignores the fact that it wasn’t new when he got involved in his kids’ crazy shenanigans. Since then, he’s gotten shot, stabbed, poisoned, nearly died at least five times—only two of which said kids know about and he’d like to keep it that way—and it’s starting to show.

So, he doesn’t exactly mind getting an upgrade. Even if the shirt, strangely, has shorter sleeves than what he did have. Though the guy in charge of the Ace Ops doesn’t wear sleeves at _all_ which is even stranger, so maybe it’s an Atlas thing. Flaunt the fact that your aura will keep you warm? Sounds like the kind of thing that might be an Atlas thing?

Yeah, sure. Guy seems pretty cocky anyway. And a bit familiar but he’s been to Atlas before, he probably passed him in the hallway at some point, and Qrow is _slightly_ too preoccupied to care about why. He’s got three kids here: Jaune, Ren, Oscar.

That means Ruby and Yang, Weiss and Blake and Nora, are _missing_ . Qrow had one job. _One job._ Keep these kids, if not completely safe because they’re all far too stubborn for that, _somewhat_ out of trouble. They could be anywhere in Mantle. For all he knows, they might _not_ be anywhere in Mantle!

For all he knows, they could be dead, and he’d never even know.

His mouth is dry, his head is pounding, and he could really _really_ use a drink right now. Except with his luck, the kids would turn up the instant he started drinking again. None of them really know he’s stopped, so the only judgment he’d have to deal with would be his own. Which is comparatively worse.

He glares at his flask. Before he can stop himself, he throws it across the room. It lands, neatly, with the rest of his old outfit. There’s the shirt he _tried_ to stitch up, but really is just another reminder of that fucker Tyrian, not that the scar’s not enough of a reminder on its own. There’s the cape that Ruby modeled hers after, and he’s _pretty_ sure the kids converted into a makeshift stretcher after he got fucking _poisoned_ by that fucker Tyrian and nearly _died_ because he was—

Oooookay. Stopping that train of thought right there, or he might as well not get rid of the flask at all. He might as well not even try.

He walks over to the pile of clothing and kneels in front of it. His flask is _right there_ and sure, it’s empty now. But it’s not like it would be hard to… 

No. Fuck that shit.

He takes his old cape back and leaves it on his bed. The rest, he throws down the nearest garbage chute. Maybe it’ll be burned. Maybe it’ll just sit in a landfill somewhere. Whatever happens to it, it’s not his problem anymore.

It’s not. His problem. Anymore.

* * *

“You can’t sleep either?” Blake asks without opening her eyes.

Ruby audibly sighs and sits up. She rubs her eyes with a hand, blinks a couple times, and pulls her legs up to her chest. “Nope.”

“Hey, Nora. You awake?”

Nora starts snoring. Either she’s not awake or she doesn’t want to be. Blake’s sleeping bag is pressed up against the wall and she’s lying facing it, but that doesn’t stop Ruby from dragging hers over. She yawns and takes a seat against Blake, then stares up at the ceiling.

“You still awake?” Ruby asks after a few moments.

“Unfortunately,” Blake mumbles. Her ears twitch.

“I’m… really glad things turned out this way. I mean. They could have gone a lot better, we could still be with the others and we could have not gotten caught, but… they could have gone a lot worse. Know what I mean?”

“Mhm.”

“We met Eudico, and Biz, and we’ve got the… beginning of a plan? Once we get our scrolls back, we can figure out where everyone else went, and we can get the Relic to Ironwood. I miss my Crescent Rose. I miss Weiss and Yang and Uncle Qrow. I miss Jaune, and Ren, and Oscar, and Maria. I even miss Ozpin! A little.”

Blake rolls over and opens her eyes just to raise an eyebrow at that last bit.

Ruby continues, slightly defensively, “Not very much. We always knew what to do when he was in charge, but we didn’t know what we were _doing_? If that makes sense.”

“More than you know,” Blake says. “My time in the White Fang… it was never easy. But I was kind of born into it, so that did make it easier at first? Dad always made sure everyone knew what they were doing and why. Honestly, so did Sienna. But once I started working more closely with…”

She trails off, and her ears fold back. She rolls back to face the wall. Ruby frowns, leans in against her more, and says after a moment, “Your dad was in charge of the White Fang at one point? I thought he was the Chieftain of Menagerie.”

“He is. The White Fang came first. Then he and Mom retired to Menagerie, and then the Faunus Militia happened so I guess he isn’t so retired anymore.”

“Huh. I remember your dad! Yang and I talked to him for a bit, we were trying to explain what happened before you got there without going too in-depth about. Well, you know.”

“Salem.” 

Ruby hums an agreement.

Blake asks after a moment, “What did he think of you two?”

“He liked Yang, I think! I know your mom did. Your mom’s nice, I got to show her Crescent Rose and she was really interested in how it worked! Which, nobody’s _ever_ interested in how weapons work except huntsmen and huntresses!”

“And wannabe huntsmen and huntresses, and everyone who wants to keep tabs on what huntsmen and huntresses are involved with.”

“True.” As they do at late hours of the night, a strange thought suddenly occurs to Ruby. She can’t _not_ voice it. So, she says, “Do you think Salem has a subscription to _Weapons Magazine_?”

A second passes, then a couple more. Then Blake audibly snorts.

“My gut tells me no, of course she wouldn’t, she’d probably have one of her henchmen get it. But none of them really seem the type either? So who knows, maybe. Or… maybe not, I doubt she has a mailing address.”

“If Cinder and Emerald and Mercury could pretend to be students at Haven, then Salem can have a mailing address!”

“Just because she can, doesn’t mean she does.”

“But she _could!_ ”

Blake sighs. “She could. We probably should quiet down some, unless we want to wake up Nora too.”

Ruby glances over there. Nora’s still snoring away, an arm thrown over her face and her sleeping bag rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. Asleep.

“I’m not sure we could without being a lot louder,” Ruby says, but quiets down anyway. 

“Mmm,” Blake agrees.

“I really miss Weiss, I know Yang can handle herself and I know Weiss can too but I just…” Ruby sighs, shakes her head. “I’m glad you’re here, Blake. And I’m glad I’m here with you. You mean a lot to me. And I’m not just saying that!”

“I know you wouldn’t. You mean a lot to me too, Ruby.” 

When Ruby speaks again, the words are more yawned out than spoken. “So, Eudico. What do you think we can do?”

“Maybe start by talking to her,” Blake offers after yawning herself. “She came by about an hour ago, headed for the door. Haven’t heard her come back yet.”

“Oh. I… definitely heard that!” Ruby definitely did not hear that. “I. Might go try to talk to her?”

“You got this,” Blake says sleepily. “I’m going to keep trying to sleep.”

“Oh. Anything I can do to help?”

“Already did. Talking helped a lot. Now I just need to actually get to sleep, which is a little hard to do when you’re talking to me.” Blake shoves at her halfheartedly until she gives in and gets up. “You got this. Go do your inspirational team leader thing.”

* * *

Weiss hears footsteps behind her, and, unfortunately, she recognizes them. She sighs.

“Whitley,” she greets, turning. “May I go to the bathroom in peace?”

“Of course, dear sister,” Whitley says. “But I do have a question for you.”

“It can wait,” she mutters, “until after I pee.” 

Weiss pretends not to enjoy the mildly scandalized look on Whitley’s face as much as she does, at least until she’s actually _in_ the bathroom. Why her father had insisted on there being one single working bathroom in this wing of the house, she still doesn’t know. Unless he just genuinely doesn’t care that the other ones don’t work, which is more likely.

She does her business and heads out again, making sure to school her features into a dispassionate look before she opens the door. Whitley is, unfortunately, waiting for her.

“What do you want,” Weiss asks, crossing her arms.

“Your… um.” Whitley clasps his hands behind his back. “You kissed a girl. In front of Father.”

“And I’d do it again. What about it?”

“Is girls kissing girls a… thing?”

Weiss sighs. She hates him so, so much. “Have you _seen_ girls? I’m guessing you haven’t met Yang yet, but trust me, you’d want to kiss her too.”

“I doubt that,” Whitley says. “Why not kiss a boy?”

“Boys are overrated. Exhibit A.” She gestures to him.

“How mature of you.”

Weiss shakes her head and moves to head back to her room. Unfortunately, she hears Whitley following her. Again.

“What do you want?” She asks again, not bothering to turn around or stop this time.

“Don’t girls kiss boys, and boys kiss girls?”

“Not always. Girls can kiss girls, and boys can kiss boys. It’s called being gay, and Father happens to not like it.”

Her hand’s on the doorknob when Whitley asks, quieter, “Why not?”

For a few seconds, Weiss thinks he’s genuinely asking it. But of course he isn’t, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her. Weiss goes inside without answering and locks the door behind her.

“I hate my brother,” she says loudly, _“so_ much. If only he would mind his own business.”

Yang, lying on the bed, looks at her quizzically. Weiss motions at the door. 

“Can’t relate,” Yang says cheerfully. “I happen to love my baby sister with all my heart. By the way, getting kind of bored, don’t suppose you have any _bored_ games anywhere?”

“In the closet, most of them are single-player,” Weiss replies. “That was terrible, by the way.”

Yang makes finger-guns as she pushes herself off the bed. “You love me.”

Weiss’ gaze follows Yang all the way to the closet and back. She doesn’t dignify that with a response either.

* * *

It takes some searching, but Ruby eventually finds Eudico on the roof of the run-down apartment building. She’s sitting on the edge with her legs hanging down, hands behind her, and staring up at Atlas above them.

“Hi,” Ruby says, quietly. “What are you doing?”

Eudico glances back. “Hey, Red.” A hand comes up, brushes her hair behind an ear. “Nothing, really. You?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Ruby yawns again to emphasize her point. “Mind if I join you?”

Eudico shrugs and turns back to the edge. “Don’t fall off.”

Ruby has no intention of doing so. She takes a seat on the edge next to Eudico, and looks up at Atlas. Somewhere up there is General Ironwood and Weiss’ sister. Maybe some of the others got up there too. But from below, it doesn’t look like much. Just a floating hunk of rock. A very _big_ floating hunk of rock, but still. There’s long cables here and there, tethering Atlas to Mantle. One of them doesn’t look that far away. 

Would Atlas just float away without the cables? With that in mind, they look so… small.

“What’s eating you?” Eudico asks after a moment. “‘Sides the whole indentured servitude thing. Probably not the best welcome you kids could have gotten.”

“We weren’t alone,” Ruby says. Upon getting a quizzical look, she amends, “Besides me and Blake and Nora. There’s my sister Yang, and our teammate Weiss, and Nora’s teammates Jaune and Ren, and Oscar and Uncle Qrow and Maria the crazy old lady we accidentally picked up when we crashed a train—long story.”

“Wasn’t going to ask. I… can ask around, see if anyone’s seen them?”

“That would actually be amazing.” Ruby looks down to the streets below again—deserted, as streets generally are at ungodly hours of the night—and back up at Atlas. “But maybe they made it past the guards. Maybe they’re up there now.”

Eudico winces. “I hope not.”

Ruby opens her mouth, then shuts it. Eudico has a point. And even if she didn’t, who down here _would_ like Ironwood? Mantle is in Atlas’ shadow, after all, and not just in a literal sense.

“I just hope they’re okay,” Ruby says instead. She swallows. She did come up here for a reason, and it wasn’t just to chat. So, she takes a deep breath, and continues, “Biz… told us some things. Did he ever tell you what he used to do before coming here?”

“Gathered he was a huntsman at some point. Beyond that, wasn’t gonna ask, and it’s not my story to tell. Why?”

“He, uh, also told us there used to be something called Vox Faunus around here and he really seemed like he wanted it back, would you happen to know anything about that?”

Ruby risks a glance at Eudico. Somehow, she looks even more tired.

“The answer’s _no_ and it’s going to _stay_ no, no matter how many times he asks.” Eudico’s eyes narrow as she goes on, “You seem like good kids, but assuming we’re talking about the same thing, what the _hell_ is he thinking saying that?”

“He… wasn’t just a huntsman,” Ruby offers. “My friends and I were coming to Atlas to help someone he… um, used to work with? It’s complicated.”

“So are the reasons why Vox Faunus can’t come back.”

“Blake told Nora and I what she knew about it, which was a lot more than what Biz told us by the way! He just told us it existed and didn’t exactly _tell_ us we should ask you for more information but, ummm… anyway! She said that it was really important and that you guys fought for the rights the SDC wouldn’t give you, even back before the White Fang did.”

“All it did was get good people killed.” There’s a sense of finality to her words. Eudico’s shoulders are shaking a little more than they would from the cold. “The White Fang are fools for thinking it’ll work for them. It _never will_. Are you done?”

Ruby’s shoulders sag. “No. I—if you’re not fighting, what are you doing? You have to do something. You know this is wrong, everything about this is wrong, and—”

“I’m going to tell you a story. There’s a kid I know, not much older than you. His name’s Thursby. His parents died in a mine explosion. A _lot_ of people died in that mine explosion, and a lot more were injured. He asked me, not that long ago, the same question you did. Why can’t we do something to change things? Why can’t we make things better?”

Eudico sighs and continues, “His parents thought they could make things better too. They thought that right up until they were blown to bloody bits. I told him that too many people had thrown their lives away by trying, only for things to get _so_ much worse. Before Vox, there were accidents, but they were rare. Now, we’re lucky if we go three days without one.”

“But if you just… give up, everyone who died, they’ll have died for nothing. You can’t just forget about them!”

“I already gave up.” Eudico reaches over to her other side, and picks up a can of beer Ruby hadn’t noticed. She takes a long sip, then holds it in front of her. “And believe me, I haven’t forgotten anything. Are you done?”

“I… just one more thing, I’m sorry, it’s not like that I promise!” Ruby hesitates anyway before saying, “Can I hug you? You sound like you need one.”

“I—” Eudico sets down her can. “Sure, I guess.”

Ruby hugs her. She takes a deep breath, lets it out. “My friends and I were on a… mission, for the headmaster of Beacon. When it fell. But it was really important, so we kept going, found some new friends along the way, Uncle Qrow showed up to help. And then we found out that… maybe, things weren’t what we thought they were at all. It looked like there was no way for us to win. We almost gave up.”

Eyes glimmering, Ruby pulls back and says, quietly but firmly, “We didn’t. We couldn’t. Would you give up if the world was at stake?”

Eudico opens her mouth. She shuts it again. Opens it again. Shuts it again. “I—”

Abruptly, a hand flings itself up and over the edge of the roof, knocking Eudico’s beer over with a clatter. The hand is followed by an arm, and a torso, and a beanie-clad head of dark brown hair and eyes. It’s a woman in a faded pink pullover hoodie, black leggings, and boots. And, oddly enough, no gloves.

She sighs and picks up the beer can, empty enough that it hadn’t spilled. 

“Love,” the woman in pink says, “we’ve talked about this. _Call someone_ if you can’t sleep at night, call _me!_ I don’t blame you for drinking, anyone would in your situation, but I’ll happily be your drinking buddy if that’s what you need. Just don’t do it alone. I had a feeling I’d find you up here.”

“Yeah,” Eudico agrees, standing. “What’s up?”

“Um.”

“Ticker. You never come looking for me in the middle of the night unless there’s a problem. What’s the problem?”

Ticker looks down at the beer can she’s holding and frowns. “Yes. The problem. The problem, that is definitely a very major issue but will have to wait because you’re clearly not alright at the moment.”

“Nope,” Ruby agrees.

Ticker looks at her and freezes. “Um, Eudi, _quick_ question. I _know_ I didn’t leave you alone long enough for you to have kids, and you’re as straight as I am which is not at all. So where did the kid come from?”

“She and her friends were trying to get into Atlas and got picked up by the company guards. You can imagine what happened next.” Eudico makes a clumsy grab for her can and misses. “Red, Ticker. Ticker, Red.”

“Ruby Rose.” Ruby offers Ticker a hand. She grins and takes it, shakes it.

“Sal Ticker. Good to meet—” They both realize, about the same time, that neither of their hands are coming loose. Ticker laughs nervously and suddenly they come apart. “You. Sorry, didn’t mean to stick to you, Red.”

“Ticker, you stick to things when you’re nervous.” Eudico says firmly. “What’s the problem?”

Ticker looks to Ruby, and looks to Eudico again. She sighs. “It’s Thursby.”

* * *

He is not enjoying Atlas. Or Mantle. Or the many novel types of Grimm that call this tundra home. Or really, anything at all about this godsforsaken continent called Solitas.

He hates snow when he has to trudge through it, more when it blows into his face. He hates sabyrs so, _so_ much. How can there _possibly_ be this many of them? Unless Mantle is a complete shithole attracting Grimm left and right which, well, he knew that already! Fuck Atlas, especially fuck the military, _especially_ fuck that Ironwood fucker.

He hates snow, he hates sabyrs, he hates Atlas. He hates the woman who should be dead for her apostasy, and he hates her lover _far_ more. But none of these are what he hates the most—although two very specific women come close.

What he hates the most is something completely out of his control, and he hates that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so keeping chapters corresponding to individual episodes was getting way too long and the AO3 numbering was messing everything up so, there's going to be more episodes than there are in canon v7 and they're not going to be called chapters anymore! also as it turns out, AO3 is not blocked on school wifi which is good considering that I've been stuck at rehearsal every day this week until late. I'm hungry and tired but that isn't stopping me.
> 
> feel free to guess at who the person in the last bit is! I'm probably not being as subtle as I think I am. :P also this story is getting progressively gayer and gayer and I love it.


	6. Part 1 Episode 4: Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar discusses his options involving the professor stuck in his head and refusing to come out or talk. Thursby is decidedly not okay but likes rhyming a lot, and the SDC is horrible but we knew that already. The Ace Operatives, joined by Special Operative Schnee, Qrow, Jaune, and Ren, embark on a mission to clear out a launch site for the Amity project. And perhaps things and people thought long gone may return.

Are there cameras in Atlas Academy? Probably. But Oscar can’t figure out where they are, he doesn’t have enough time to figure out where the blind spots are, and he’s not quite desperate enough to fish for knowledge from Oz.

Besides, it would be suspicious if he looked like he was sneaking around. So instead, he does his best to look like he knows where he’s going (accurate) and like he’s supposed to be going there (not so accurate.) 

As it turns out, imitating Oz’s walk is a really good way to pretend at both of those. Makes sense, considering all the lies he’d told. Which Oscar will never not be bitter about, by the way. How do you even hide things from someone you’re supposed to share a soul with? Because somehow Oz did. Which probably says something about how good of a liar he is.

If Oscar ever gets to be that good at lying, he might ask someone to punt him off the side of Atlas or something similarly high up. Especially if said lying involves keeping things hidden that really _really_ shouldn’t be kept hidden. Cough, Salem can’t be killed, cough, because it had taken all of five minutes for _Ironwood_ of all people to pick up on the wording.

Maybe Oz would have picked up on it far earlier if he’d actually trusted others with that knowledge. Did he? Nope!

Oscar thought this morning, when everyone _but_ him got alerts to report to a briefing room, that maybe it was a mistake. It wasn’t a mistake, but they let him stick around long enough to know what they were doing: clearing out a mine for the Amity Tower project.

He just has to get on one of the ships there, ideally the one with Qrow, Jaune, and Ren on it. Winter is also on it which could be a problem, but as long as he’s not discovered until he’s already there—

“Oscar?”

 _Shit._ He turns, slowly, and sees… yep. Ironwood. Of all the people he could have run into.

“Yeah, hi, it’s me,” Oscar says sheepishly. “I got… lost?”

Ironwood raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, so I didn’t get lost, I wanted to go with the others,” Oscar admits eventually. “I can hold my own in a fight.”

“I don’t doubt you can,” Ironwood says. “However, there is someone I would like for you to meet, preferably as soon as possible. It’s about Ozpin and your… idea.”

“Oh. Uh.”

Ironwood checks his scroll briefly and nods. “If you hurry, you can catch them before they take off. However, I don’t know how much longer Dr. Polendina will be available.”

Dr. Polendina… like Penny? 

“The idea about Oz, and me,” Oscar says slowly. Ironwood nods. “Let’s do it now.”

He doesn’t know how much time he has left, after all.

* * *

Thursby is, as far as appearances are concerned, a relatively normal looking if slightly built kid around Oscar’s age. It’s not immediately obvious what his faunus trait is. What _is_ immediately obvious is that whatever happened to him, it wasn’t pretty. His jeans are slowly turning from dirty blue to a dangerous shade of scarlet, his arms are dangling uselessly and broken, and if it weren’t for the bloody AK-130 cradling him in its arms, strangely glowing with blue light instead of red, how he got here would be a mystery.

As soon as Ticker brings him in, Eudico leaps into action, digging out a first aid kit from a drawer and asking Ruby, tersely, whether either of her friends had any sort of healing semblance.

“Jaune does,” comes the response from a thoroughly horrified Ruby. “But I don’t know where he is, and I can’t contact him without my scroll.”

“And you’re not getting that back anytime soon,” Eudico finishes. She blinks hard. “You can let the other kids sleep, then, it’s probably better to have less people involved with this. I just—Ticker, any luck?”

“Did my best to stop the bleeding when I found him, unfortunately that piece of scrap wasn’t too gentle getting him here and I could only go so far with my semblance,” Ticker reports. “Working on it, we need Biz.”

“Biz’s semblance can only go so far.” Eudico sighs. She digs in a pocket for her scroll and passes it to Ruby. “But he does have the most medical experience of anyone off the grid. Red, second contact from the bottom of the list. Tell him we need him now, my place, bring medical supplies.”

Ruby scrolls. There’s no picture, no identifying information except two words. She looks at Eudico and opens her mouth to ask, but gets a too-quick nod. She taps out Eudico’s message.

Thursby opens his eyes and mumbles something inaudible. He repeats it, a little louder, “He saved my life. I’ll call him… I don’t know… Brice!”

The newly named Brice does not react but continues to stand in the corner, where it had been standing from the moment it let someone else take Thursby. Eudico audibly sighs.

“Now is _not_ the time for your voiddamned rhyming, and your life wouldn’t have been at _risk_ in the _first place_ if you’d just _listened to me._ How did you even—I don’t know, take over one of those?”

“I… don’t know either,” Thursby admits. “I was… trying to sneak around, all sneaky-like and no noises, neither.”

“Thursby we do _not_ have time for rhyming. Just tell me what happened.”

Eudico’s scroll in Ruby’s hands buzzes with a new message from… The Business, which is probably Biz now that she thinks about it.

 _The Business:_ _How bad is it?_

Ruby taps out a reply. 

_idk hes awake but losing a lot of blood :(_

After a few moments, she adds, _this is ruby btw_

_The Business: I gathered that. Eudi isn’t the sort to use faces in her texts, generally. Tell her I’m on my way._

Ruby conveys the message, just in time for Ticker to make a satisfied noise and say, “I think it’s stopped for good this time. Good news, hun, you won’t be dying from blood loss!”

“That’s…” Thursby winces. “That’s good. In the hood…? Yeah alright no. No rhyming. Got it. Sorry. It’s just… it _hurts._ ”

Eudico sighs and puts an arm around Thursby, as best she can when he’s propped up on a vaguely brownish couch. “I know, kid. I know. Biz is on his way, you’re going to be okay. Now what happened?”

“I—” Thursby’s gaze goes to Brice again. Still motionless. “I got caught. I _know_ you said it wasn’t worth it but it wasn’t like I had a choice, it was that or get thrown in jail for not paying on my dead parents’ loans! And I. There was a man there, a-and a lot of robots. And he said he was going t-t-to break me first, before he threw me in. And then e-everything hurt, and I… I don’t know what happened. I’m not sure what happened. I’m not…”

“It’s okay. Breathe. We’ll figure it out. You’re safe now.”

Movement in the corner of her eye makes Ruby glance up, see Blake in the doorway. Who looks at the situation, looks at everyone, looks at Thursby specifically—and recognition dawns in her eyes. Her ears go flat.

“What happened?” Blake asks.

“Didn’t see you there for a moment. Thought you were a shadow or something. Trying to figure out what happened,” Eudico says softly. She gestures to everyone in turn. “Thursby, Ticker, Shadow.”

“Hi,” Thursby says weakly. “Usually I rhyme. Sometimes.”

Wordlessly, Blake takes a seat on the floor next to Ruby as Thursby takes a deep breath and tries to keep going.

“I don’t… everything hurts, and I remember just… I remember screaming. And I remember not being able to move, and I remember just… wanting to fight back. And then I think… some of the AKs turned blue and started shooting at the others? Then I couldn’t… I—the next thing I remember Brice was carrying me and we ran into Ticker and… I don’t know.”

“Me either, kid,” Eudico says sadly. “But you’re going to be okay. You’re out of there now. And we’re going to figure this out.”

“Um,” Ruby says quietly. “I’m… not any kind of authority on this but it sounds like you might have unlocked your semblance?”

Thursby looks at her. Blinks. “My _what?”_

Ruby looks at Blake. Blake looks at Ruby. Honestly, Ruby is fully expecting to have to explain this, so she’s a little surprised when Ticker clears her throat awkwardly.

“Everyone has this energy called aura, although it’s a _bit_ difficult to activate, it can save your life once it does. Same goes with your semblance.” Ticker holds up a hand. She snaps her fingers, her eyes flash pink, and in an instant she’s on the other side of the room. “Everyone has one, and everyone’s is something different, and it’s powered by your aura. Mine’s limited teleportation. Eudi’s is… I... don’t know, actually.”

“It’s not important,” Eudico says dismissively. “But Sparky, third kid, still sleeping—”

“No I’m not,” Nora says sleepily. She takes in the situation. “Ow.”

Thursby laughs weakly. “Yeah… ow is right.”

“Sparky here,” Eudico continues, “can absorb electricity to become stronger. I’m guessing you two have semblances too.”

“I can go super-fast in a flurry of rose petals,” Ruby offers. “Blake can create a clone of herself to take a hit!”

“Shadow’s a pretty apt nickname,” Blake says with a wry smile. 

“It sounds,” Eudico says quietly, turning back to Thursby, “like your semblance might be to control technology. It also sounds like it saved your life.”

“Oh. Nice,” Thursby says. He looks over at the robot and grins. “Thanks, Brice.”

The formerly motionless robot looks over, gives him a thumbs up, and returns to its motionless position. It’s still glowing blue. Ticker whistles appreciatively.

Eudico’s scroll buzzes. Ruby passes it back to her.

“Couple minutes left on Biz,” Eudico tells the room. “Thursby—can you try moving anything?”

“I can!” He immediately winces. “On second thought, I certainly cannot.”

* * *

“Alpha Squad will be myself and Qrow,” Clover says over comms. “Winter, Harriet, Marrow, you’ll be Bravo. Charlie: Elm, Vine, Jaune, and Ren. The good news about this mine is that there’s a central chamber that, if we play our cards right, we can corner this geist in. The bad news is, it’s a labyrinth of connecting tunnels and dead ends, so stay with your designated group. Bravo, start at the northwest entrance. Charlie, drop at the northeast. We’ll take the south. Over.”

“Understood,” Vine says. “Charlie is going in now. Over and out.”

Winter puts a hand to her communicator and pushes the button in. “Understood,” she says tersely. “Bravo is over and out.”

She lets her hand fall to her rapier, then looks to the two ace operatives. Harriet Bree, Marrow Amin. Speed and slow. Start and finish. She does appreciate competence, and the Ace Operatives are nothing if not competence. So she’ll overlook the location of this particular mission for the sake of accomplishing it.

“Well?” She asks them, gesturing to the opening door.

Marrow opens his mouth to speak. Winter doesn’t wait for a response. She draws Hippeastrum and leaps feetfirst. For a few, breathless moments, she lets herself fall while scanning the area. 

There. A tower. Likely a watchtower for creatures of grimm before the mine was closed. More importantly, closer to the ground, and with a direct path to it. She points with her weapon and creates a line of glyphs. Dropping onto them, she bends her knees and slides, slow at first then faster and faster.

Another point of Hippeastrum, renewed focus on the tower itself, and another glyph springs into life as the glyphs behind her dissipate. She leaps to that glyph, then summons another lower on the tower, and jumps to that one. Rinse and repeat. Clean and simple with minimal waste of aura.

Winter looks up to see the rest of Bravo come down after her. Harriet rolls to her feet, and Marrow slides in on his own weapon, a mechanized boomerang called Fetch.

Their landing strategies aren’t terrible, she’ll give them that. She pulls her scroll out and examines it.

“We appear to be closest to the geist’s last known location,” Winter tells them. “Let’s move.”

* * *

“I have some good news and some bad news for you, young man,” Biz tells Thursby. “First, I _really_ must ask, what were you thinking?”

“I already got the talk from Eudico,” Thursby mumbles.

From Thursby’s right side, Biz glares across him at Eudico, who is currently leaning rather heavily on the back of the couch. “I’m sure you did.”

“You said that you had no other option,” Eudico cuts in disapprovingly, pointedly ignoring Biz as she does. “There is _always_ another option. You could have talked to me, or Biz, or Ticker, or _literally anyone_ before deciding to steal from a heavily guarded company dust shop.”

“Vox Faunus always made it look so easy, and I—”

“Vox Faunus is _gone_ for a reason.”

“And whose fault is that?” Biz asks unhelpfully. 

Ticker looks between Eudico, Biz, and Thursby with clear confusion written all over her face. After a few moments, she says, “I get the feel I _might_ be missing something here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Eudico mutters, “because Vox Faunus is _never coming back._ ”

Dead silence. For a few moments, the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and nobody is willing to look at anybody else. 

“I’m definitely missing something,” Ticker mutters under her breath.

“Good news,” Biz says after a few tense moments. “You’re not going to die.”

“That’s good news? What a ruse.” Thursby winces. “Kidding, kidding. That’s… _all_ the good news?”

Biz nods solemnly. “The bad news is, without some kind of prosthetics, you won’t be walking again. I’m not entirely sure your arms will function properly, either—at least one of them is completely shattered and unfortunately, we both know how much worse injuries can be for you in particular.”

“So I’m fucked. Plucked. Whatever.”

Eudico’s scroll, still in her hands, lights up with a notification. She looks at it and her face visibly falls.

“Even if you could walk,” Eudico says softly, “there’s an alert out for you to be detained on sight. You made an impression, and not a good one.”

“So my goose is cooked.”

“Thursby, you’re a heron,” Ticker cuts in, “it’s literally in your name.”

“I happen to like rhyming, and I’m not so literally dying, _let me have this!_ ” Thursby takes a deep breath. “But really, I might as well be dead already, I can’t work cause I can’t _walk_ and I can’t walk cause my legs don’t work like they used to and I can’t get prosthetics cause I can’t work and…” 

He sighs, looks down. “It’s not like this can be worse. I guess.”

“It _could_ be worse,” Eudico insists. “You could be dead.”

“You mean, like Vox is?”

“I—” Eudico shakes her head. “That doesn’t matter right now. I promised your parents I would keep you safe, and that includes when you do _incredibly_ stupid things like what you just did.”

Thursby looks at his arms. One of them is in a bloody sling, and the other is hanging limp and useless off the side of the couch. He doesn’t even bother looking at his legs before he glances back to Eudico and says, “Thanks.”

“How possible would it be to… I don’t know, make prosthetics?” Nora hesitantly offers. “One of our friends, Ruby’s sister Yang, she lost her arm in the Fall of Beacon, and then she turned up with a prosthetic, and I don’t know where she got it but—”

“She didn’t make it,” Ruby interrupts before she can get too excited. “Dad called in a favor. Several favors.”

“Oh.”

Blake frowns. “Nora, you have a point. We _do_ have an entire AK robot here that probably would be a bit harder to hide than Thursby, with arms and legs in much better shape. Might be able to handle two things at once. How _hard_ would it be?”

“We’d need supplies, and someone who actually could do it,” Biz says after a few moments. “Thursby. I don’t suppose you were able to lift any dust? Specifically electricity?”

Thursby shakes his head wordlessly.

“Well,” Biz continues, “I could do it. Or Little Duck could, but I’m not on speaking terms with her anymore and I doubt you are either.”

“You know Little Duck?” Ticker asks. She doesn’t get an answer, so she looks to Blake. “Do _you_ know Little Duck?”

“Know _of_ ,” Blake says. Ruby pokes her in the shoulder, so she explains, “Vigilante and master thief based somewhere around here. Less active these days.”

“I can get in touch,” Eudico says quietly. “But it won’t be easy. And we still need someone who could actually take that robot and make prosthetics, someone who would be able to keep quiet about it, and someone who would be willing. Which really narrows it down.”

“I might know someone,” Ticker offers. “Rudy Zuud, you know her?”

“She hates me.”

“Ah.” Ticker frowns. “That might be a problem.”

“How do you know her?”

“Briefly worked in the same sector. She’s an engineering genius, from what I can tell, but hates… well, everyone. I wouldn’t call us friends, but I listen when she complains so she maybe doesn’t hate me quite as much. But also she forgot to bring a pickaxe once, pulled some scrap metal out of nowhere, and made one on the spot. So.”

“Problem would be getting her to help,” Biz says. “She doesn’t exactly have a high opinion of me at the moment, either.”

“She…” Eudico hesitates. “She might be willing to listen to Vox.”

Biz freezes. “You’re… serious?”

“Very. I—you’re right, Thursby, I haven’t been doing as much as I could have been. Should have been, maybe. That changes today.” There’s a new resolve in Eudico’s eyes now. Looks like Ruby’s usual optimism pulled through. “I’m bringing Vox back.”

“I’m going to cry,” Thursby says, and then he does. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Well. You’re seeing it now.”

Ticker cautiously raises a hand. “Question, um… how? Vox died. No one knows how to recreate their transmissions.”

“I can do it.”

“...you learned from the old Vox? _You_ were involved back then?”

“Well, that’s closer,” Biz mumbles under his breath. He’s hiding a smile.

“You could say that,” Eudico replies. She glances around the room, then nods to herself. “It’s time I showed you all my semblance. And Red?”

Ruby glances over.

Eudico smiles. “Thanks.”

* * *

“Gotta say,” Qrow says wryly, “I’m really not used to working with other huntsmen in the field.”

“Kids don’t count?” Clover asks.

Qrow shakes his head. “They would all be huntsmen by now, if Beacon hadn’t fallen. Although there’s something to be said for field experience. They’re better fighters than some huntsmen I know.”

Clover hums speculatively. He slows his pace a little, lets Qrow go ahead, and glances around. No geist here, so he speeds up.

“You must have had a team, at some point,” Clover tries. “Assuming you didn’t just swoop in and ace the huntsman exam.”

Clover is almost certain Qrow _did_ have a team at some point, because he’s definitely met him before somewhere. A Vytal Festival, maybe, because he certainly isn’t from Atlas Academy.

“Hardly.” Qrow snorts. “Had one, long time ago. Teams don’t generally stay together after they graduate.”

“Well, no,” Clover agrees. “But I keep in touch with my old teammates, when I can. One’s running a radio show in Vacuo these days, one’s a military scientist. One’s still a teammate today.”

“On the Ace Ops?” Qrow turns, raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which one?”

Clover smiles. “Take a guess.”

“Uh… tall guy, really needs to spend more time outside, red sash over his uniform. You put him in charge of one of the other groups. I don’t really know names.”

“Vine,” Clover supplies. “And no. He was a part of Team SKVE. Most of them graduated a few years after me.”

“Hammer?”

It takes him a few seconds to realize Qrow means Elm. He snorts.

“Also a part of Team SKVE, her name’s Elm, and still no.”

“Those two were _on the same team?”_

“Well, they joined the Ace Ops at different times. If you think that’s strange, their leader was actually Specialist Winter Schnee.”

Qrow actually chokes on thin air. Clover moves to pat his back, but he holds up a hand, puts his hands on his knees, and coughs, “I’m _fine._ ”

Once he’s recovered, he asks, “Who the hell was the fourth member of that team?”

“She didn’t graduate. Some kind of scandal, it was after my academy days.”

“Huh. Probably just told the wrong person where to shove it.”

Clover is _pretty_ sure there was more going on than that but he’s not sure enough to say so. And anyway, before he can offer up that theory, Qrow conversationally asks, “So why are you being so friendly, anyway? Jimmy put you up to it?”

It takes him a bit to process the fact that yes, this nobody huntsman from Vale did just call General Ironwood _Jimmy_ like it was nothing. Except Qrow Branwen _isn’t_ a nobody—although he is definitely a huntsman from Vale. He knew about Salem long before any of the Ace Ops did. Probably not before Ironwood did, he can’t be that old, because Clover remembers him.

He remembers an Atlas-hosted Vytal Festival, and a final match in the singles between Atlas and Beacon. The one time his semblance hadn’t pulled through, the commentators having a field day going on and on about how _ironic_ it was that it came down to two people with luck-based semblances. 

Qrow probably doesn’t remember him, and it’s with that in mind that Clover says easily, “Is it really that strange when people are nice to you?”

“There’s a reason I work alone. Tends to be for the best.”

“Well, I think that’s a shame.”

Qrow slips. Feet flying back, upper body flying forward, and it doesn’t take a trained huntsman to know that’s going to hurt. Clover throws an arm out blindly. As luck would have it, he manages to grab Qrow’s and haul him back to his feet.

They exchange a long look. Qrow frowns and looks away. Clover turns away as well and taps into his communicator.

“Alpha here,” he says, and looks pointedly at the icy wall. “Give me an update. Over.”

Vine taps in. _“Charlie here. The connecting ice tunnels seem clear. We should be approaching the actual mine any minute now. Over.”_

 _“Bravo checking in,”_ Winter says, with a hint of irritation in her words. _“We have a small obstruction. Nothing we can’t handle. We’ll be on the move again soon. Over.”_

“Proceed as planned, Charlie,” Clover orders. “Bravo, what kind of obstruction? Please clarify. Over.”

 _“Understood,”_ Vine says. _“Over and out.”_

 _“There is a cave-in,”_ Winter reports. _“Uncertain whether it was recent or caused by the original accident. We can handle it. Over.”_

“Understood, Bravo,” Clover says. “Let us know if you need anything. Over and out.”

* * *

“Oscar, this is Doctor Pietro Polendina.” Ironwood ushers him into his office, where a man rests in a four-legged chair. Not legged like a normal chair, this one actually has legs. With knees. And shoes. And it’s moving. 

“Uh, hello, Doctor.” Oscar shakes the man’s hand, then looks past him to the woman standing behind him with her cane. “Hi, Maria.”

Maria waves, but surprisingly enough, is silent. 

“Now,” Ironwood says, stepping up to lean back on his desk, “I’ve told Pietro what you told me. He is the foremost robotics expert in the kingdom, maybe the world. If anyone could do what you ask…”

“Thank you, General. This is a lot to take in, but I think I’ve been brought up to speed. You have the late Headmaster Ozpin now living in your head, and you’d like him out.”

“That’s right,” Oscar says. “He locked himself away after we used the Relic, and I’ve only heard from him once since then. He helped me crash that airship safely, and then he was gone again. But he’s still here somewhere. And I don’t know how long it will be until… until he’s the only one here.”

“I saw them both after the train crash,” Maria pipes up. “Bit of a shock, hearing this kid say he wants answers and then suddenly he turns around and starts making excuses for why he won’t _give_ answers.”

“I’ve trusted Ozpin for many years,” Ironwood says. “I know he has reasons for the secrets he keeps… even from us. But that’s not why we’re here right now. Doctor, in your opinion, do you think it is possible to separate these two souls and place one into a new body?”

Pietro thinks for a moment before he speaks. “It’s hard to say. I could build a body, just like I built Penny. That’s not the hard part. What I’m not sure about is the transfer.”

Oscar tentatively raises a hand. “Um. If I may…” All eyes turn to him and he hesitates. “When we first met, Ozpin said our auras were already combined. Later on, he said his soul was ‘eventually merged with another’, but not immediately. Professor Lionheart could tell that I wasn’t him when we met. Nobody has ever given me a timeframe for how long I have left.”

Ironwood looks down at his feet. “You said Ozpin guided you on the airship without taking control?”

Oscar nods. 

“That may have been the first step. That brief moment of you both having influence at the same time. I met the previous Ozpin, the one who would become Headmaster of Beacon, just three years after his reincarnation and he was alone in his head by then. It’s been one year for you already.”

“Better hurry up then!” Maria pronounces. “Pietro, I’ve seen your workshop. You’ve got most of a body already, if you put it back together.”

“Penny’s first body, yes.” Now Pietro too looks down and away from anyone’s eyes. “I only reused her core processors and a few parts when she was repaired. But the transfer of aura…”

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asks. 

“There’s a reason Penny doesn’t have any siblings,” Pietro says. “Why I and everyone else have not made more living robots like her.”

Ironwood somehow finds a way to avert his eyes further. 

“Penny’s aura, her soul, does not come from her body or her programming. It comes from me. I got in one of those machines, and I… I ripped myself in half to give her life. And after she died… I gave her everything I had left.” There is a faint flicker of bright green over Pietro’s body, until his miniscule aura breaks just from that display. 

“I… I’m sorry,” Oscar stammers. “I had no idea. But… isn’t that a good sign, for me and Ozpin? We can separate even if we’re… if it’s already started.”

“I suppose so.”

“Aura meters!” Maria cuts in again. “That’s what we need. You still got your old scroll, kid?”

Oscar fumbles in his pockets and comes up with both his usual and the new scroll that Ironwood gave him. 

“Great. Now, your old scroll’s got your old aura meter, right? From before Ozpin moved in? If you’re already a little bit stuck together, the new one should have detected both of you at once when it was calibrating. Subtract the two, and we know how much to suck out.”

Ironwood looks at her with what passes for a smile, for him. “That just might work.” He turns his attention back to Oscar, and the almost-smile is gone. “Unfortunately, according to Doctor Polendina’s reports on the subject, it is going to be _extraordinarily_ painful.”

“I’ll do it,” Oscar says without hesitation. “Ozpin and I are like-minded souls, so he says. We both want to help people however we can. But I can’t do that if I’m not myself. What could he possibly gain from me that’s worth more than having me still alive and fighting by his side? I’ll do whatever it takes to separate us, and soon.”

“I’ll get started on the body right away, then,” Pietro offers. “There’s just one more thing. Which one do _you_ want? This is the body you’re used to, it’s yours, but you could have the robot if you wanted. It would be more durable and have an integrated scroll and weaponry, and whatever other upgrades I can put on it.”

“I think I’d like to keep my own, thanks. I just want Ozpin out of it. Besides, if he’s the robot, that makes it harder for him to reincarnate into someone else after me, doesn’t it?”

* * *

Wordlessly, she points Hippeastrum at the ground and calls up a summoning glyph. A beowolf should do the job nicely, assuming that there isn’t dust behind the cave-in. That is, however, not a viable assumption considering they are in a _dust mine_. If there is dust there, that would be a problem, would be a needless waste of perfectly good dust, and would quite possibly result in a new cave-in directly on top of them. 

Winter would like to avoid being buried alive. She lets the summon dissipate half-formed and turns to the others.

Harriet Bree. Semblance: super-speed. Her weapon is also likely capable of breaking through the rock, however she is also the physically smallest of the group and therefore most likely to be able to fit through any gaps.

Marrow Amin. Semblance: making an enemy or group stay in one place. Weapon will be useful enough in a fight, but not for bashing through rubble. He is, however, faunus, which means he can see in the dark.

It also means Winter has to force her feelings about this place even further down, but that’s second nature to her at this point.

“Look for a way through, or at least some way to determine what’s on the other side,” Winter orders.

“Got it,” Harriet agrees. After a few moments she reports, “Looks like there might be a hole here. Pretty dark, and I don’t think Marrow will fit.”

Marrow looks in and visibly winces. “Definitely not,” he says. “It looks like a relatively straightforward path, so you _probably_ could get through it without being able to see, but…”

Winter points. A white glyph flares to life on one of the cavern walls, and a single tiny white bird flies out of it. She points Hippeastrum at the tunnel then, and the bird flies into it.

“Does that help?” Winter asks.

Harriet nods. “Actually, yes. I’ll take a look.”

Her weapon retracts to a more compact form as she crawls in after the bird. Winter watches her go, partially in order to direct her summoned grimm. She concentrates. So much, in fact, that it takes her a few moments to realize Marrow is trying to speak to her.

“I missed that,” Winter says. She adds, quickly, “I apologize.”

“It’s fine,” Marrow says quietly. “I just… wanted to know. Are you trying not to talk to me on purpose, or…?”

“It’s not you. It’s…” Winter sighs, sweeps a hand to signify the surroundings. “This place. It stands for everything wrong my father has done. Unfortunately, there’s very little we can do about it.”

“Guess not.” Marrow frowns, then shrugs to himself. “Anyway, I didn’t come over here looking to solve systemic societal issues. You can break through the wall?”

Winter nods. "I could. I believe your teammate has it under control." She taps into the Bravo channel and asks, “Harriet. What’s your status?”

 _“There is no exposed dust in the immediate area. Stand back.”_ There’s the sound of her weapon powering up, and then, without any warning, _“GEIST!”_

“Get out of the way. Now.” 

Beowolf: summoned. It hurls itself at the wall and smashes through. There’s the geist. It takes one look at Winter and Marrow, and the spectral beowolf leaping at it, and it flees. Winter sends the beowolf after it anyway—right now, they can use another pair of eyes. 

“Thanks,” Harriet says, dusting herself off. “Was not looking forward to going toe to toe with that thing on my own.”

Winter gives her a curt nod and switches into the main channel. “Contact with the target. Alpha, it’s going towards you. I’ll do what I can to direct it. Over.”

 _“Understood, we’ll keep an eye out for it,”_ Clover says lightly. _“Over and out.”_

“So,” Harriet asks, “how exactly _does_ that work?”

It takes Winter a bit longer than she’d care to admit to realize what it is she’s referring to. “My semblance? Functionally, the same way any semblance does. In practice…”

She pulls out her scroll and pulls up a map of the mine. There is, in fact, a clear route to Alpha squad. She closes her eyes and directs her beowolf to herd the geist that way.

“In practice, I prefer to use summoning to augment my own skills, but in this case the best course of action is to chase our target into another group. Hence the beowolf.” Winter’s eyes snap open as the beowolf is, abruptly, dissipated. At least the geist is still going the right way. “Speaking of which, there is something coming that isn’t the target. Be ready.”

She’s scarcely finished speaking before a centinel burrows out of the ground. Marrow groans, and he isn’t the only one with that sentiment.

Where there’s one centinel, there’s always, _always_ more. At least they’re relatively easy to dispatch, provided you aren’t overwhelmed. Winter has no intention of being overwhelmed.

* * *

This would be _so_ much easier if Nora was here. Elm might fight with a similar weapon, and act a little like Nora might, but she’s not Nora. If anything, she just makes Nora’s absence more painful, at least for Jaune.

So he tries. He looks to Ren, and says, tentatively, “I like your outfit, Ren.”

“Nora should be here,” Ren mutters. So much for distraction. Jaune sighs. 

“Yeah, she should be. But I feel completely confident in saying that if she _was_ here, she’d like your new outfit too. It’s very pink!”

“What’s wrong with pink?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

Satisfied, Ren smiles. “Let’s keep moving. What we do here reflects our entire team.”

Jaune opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Somehow, he gets the feeling that he’s not just talking about Nora anymore. His hand goes to the red scrap of fabric he keeps tied at his waist.

“I miss her,” Jaune mumbles under his breath. His face falls. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Ren’s eyes shining. 

“We all do. The best thing we can do is keep moving on.” Ren blinks hard, glances past the two Ace Ops, and adds, “Currently, that entails dealing with the grimm.”

“What gri—” A group of centinels burst out of the ground and the walls and the ceiling. Elm and Vine leap into action, and Ren looks at Jaune. 

“Right,” Jaune says sheepishly. “Those grimm. We’re not all ninjas, Ren!”

Ren shakes his head with a fond smile.

* * *

“If you can find one singular book in here that’s not thoroughly boring, I’ll…” Weiss shrugs. “I don’t know! It doesn’t matter because you won’t find a single book that won’t put you to sleep. They’re boring to _me._ ”

“Challenge accepted,” Yang says immediately, because of course she does. “Hey, you have a spare hair tie I can borrow?”

Weiss undoes her own hair, lets it fall down over her shoulders. Maybe she’ll try braiding it later. Maybe, between the two of them, they’ll be able to find some clothes more appropriate for Atlas weather. That’s a thought, although of course they’ll all be in whites and greys.

Weiss happens to like white, but it’s better with something to accent it. Like the red scarf Ruby bought for her in Mistral, or maybe something in blue. And white is thoroughly not Yang’s color. Maybe there’ll be something they can modify in Winter’s closet. Or maybe they can convince her mom to order something since neither of them can, obviously. Thanks, Jacques. Huge fan.

She passes the tie to Yang, who ties her hair up into a high, messy ponytail and gives her a thumbs up.

“I’m going to find an actually interesting book somewhere in here,” Yang proclaims. “And then you’re going to ask Ruby out once we see her again.”

“Now you’re just going to find a random book and call it interesting,” Weiss says. “I reserve the right to read the book you pick to make sure you’re not just trying to mess with my nonexistent love life.”

“Pfffff, what do you mean _nonexistent?_ You’re dating _this girl_ , remember?” 

“Alas, my dear Yang, I have a confession to make.”

Yang puts a hand over her heart in mock-offense. “What? Do tell, my sweet Weiss Queen.”

“Your sister is pretty, and I am but a useless lesbian. But worry not! Our other teammate is very pretty too, and I am _quite_ certain she likes you back.”

“You’re right, Blake is _so_ pretty and nice and kind and _such_ a dork. While my sister is a total _nerd_ , I will give you my blessing to date her.”

“But… you’re dating me.”

Yang winks. “Both my sister and I have two hands. Does it really matter if one of mine is metal?”

She holds out the aforementioned metal hand, and Weiss takes it. Violet eyes meet icy blue, and for a few moments Weiss almost thinks she might be serious. Then she grins, and they both burst out laughing.

 _“Please_ say that in front of my father, that might be one of the very few things you can say to piss him off more,” Weiss says all too cheerfully.

“Oh, I will,” Yang says seriously. “You think he’ll come yell at us if we stay in the library long enough? Or will he send your brother?”

“If we scare Whitley off, he’ll come himself. But it’ll be a bit. Might as well get looking for books.”

On that note, Weiss starts digging around for the television remote. She finds it, eventually, tucked away in a dusty basket on a high shelf. That in itself is strange, she was under the impression that Father liked to keep up with the news. Although maybe some of it has to do with the fact that news can generally be kept up with on a scroll, without needing to reference a TV, and Jacques Schnee would of course have all the finest luxuries in technology.

She switches the TV on and finally finds a channel with some _not_ terrible programming, just in time for one extremely terrible excuse for a father to walk in and look around disapprovingly.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“You put us both under house arrest, Father,” Weiss says. She walks over to the couch in front of it and takes a seat. “You _could_ of course put us both under room arrest, but you might not like what you find when you come in to check on us.”

In a bold move, she winks.

“Weiss,” Yang says quite emphatically, _“I love you.”_ She sets a stack of books on the couch between them, then vaults over the back of it to sit opposite Weiss with a grin.

“I love you too,” Weiss replies. 

She puts a hand to her mouth and blows her a kiss. Jacques is turning purple again. He looks like he’s about to say something, or possibly just about to start blowing steam out of his mouth, when the documentary on the Great War abruptly gives way to static.

At first, Weiss honestly thinks he’s done something to the programming. Then she realizes that no, he’s just staring at the television in a mix of shock and horror.

“Aw, come on,” Yang complains, “I was watching that.”

“Shut up,” Jacques says tersely.

“Make me.”

Jacques does not make her, or try to, because something has begun to fade in from the static. Or rather, someone. Someone who looks very, very familiar.

It’s _him_ , but it isn’t, because the Jacques on the screen is smiling obliviously while the Jacques standing two feet to the right of the screen is looking even _more_ purple by the second. Probably the biggest difference, however, and the biggest clue that this is _far_ from being Schnee-sanctioned propaganda, is the pair of _donkey ears_ photoshopped in place of his usual pair.

“We are the used. The mutilated. The indebted,” Fake-Jacques intones in a distorted voice. “We are Vox Faunus. Hello, Jacques. How are the old despicable business practices treating you?”

Jacques makes a noise that’s midway between an indignant scream and a hacking cough.

“I’m sure you thought we were gone,” Vox continues. “I’m sure many did. But we are not gone. We will never back down again. The world will know what you have done, Jacques Schnee, and what you continue to do today. Consider this your warning.”

The figure fades out, as does the static. The documentary comes back on. For what seems like forever, Jacques Schnee just stands there. His eyes narrow. He doesn’t look at Weiss, or Yang.

“I killed you once,” Jacques says to the television, perhaps even murderously. “I’ll kill you again.”

Yang doesn’t even wait until the door’s shut behind him before exclaiming, “So what the _fuck_ was that about?”

“Vox Faunus,” Weiss says. “Not all that different from the White Fang, except they were like the current White Fang from the beginning. They’re back, and this time I hope they bring him down.”

* * *

“This is Alpha, we’ve engaged the target!” Clover yells into comms. “All squads head toward our position!”

With the message sent, Qrow pulls back some but doesn’t stop firing with Harbinger’s shotgun. The geist dodges every blast, of course, but hey. If he keeps shooting, _something_ ’ll hit it sooner or later, since it won’t let him get into swinging range.

From behind him, Clover sends out his weapon’s… hook? Hook, sure. Whatever it’s called, it just _barely_ misses the geist’s mask, passing through its currently intangible body harmlessly. It only stays intangible for about a second longer, however.

Within one second, it’s got a body full of ice and rock, and _technically_ qualifies as a small petra gigas. Within five seconds, it’s pulled enough other chunks of ice and rock from the surrounding cavern to qualify as a petra gigas and a big one at that. Peachy.

“I got it,” Clover calls out, hook retracted and ready to take on something clearly bigger and stronger than him. Cocky bastard. Qrow stays back, even as he keeps Harbinger at the ready. No need to let his semblance get in the way.

He’s probably not far enough away. His gaze sweeps the immediate area, and sure enough—there’s one last chunk of ice, stuck behind a support beam, which is going to fall soon and turn the cocky bastard into a cocky pancake.

“Stop!” Qrow yells.

Clover does, and not a moment too soon. The icy rock flies, the beam falls, and the last thing Qrow sees is Clover’s arms flying up to protect his face.

When the dust settles, the cocky bastard is luckily not a pancake, but the geist… gigas… whatever, grimm classifications are stupid! Whatever it’s called, it’s gone, and there’s a hole, and Clover’s standing at the edge of it looking down.

“Darn it,” he mutters, and Qrow has to take a moment to process this because _who the hell says ‘darn it’ except this fucker, apparently!_ He raises a hand to his earpiece and says, “Target escaped. Last seen headed east, may still have a body.”

Then he turns to face Qrow, and smiles. “Thanks for the callout. That could have been bad.”

Could have, would have. Clover’s lucky that Qrow stood far enough back to see it coming, and considering whose fault it probably is that this happened in the first place… Qrow just sighs, shakes his head.

“I wouldn’t thank me. My semblance brings misfortune. Sometimes I can’t keep it under control.”

 _Sometimes_ is putting it lightly. If he had a lien note for every time something went wrong because of him, well. There’s a lot of things that have gone wrong. A little voice in the back of his mind that sounds a little like Summer and a little like Ruby insists that he can’t possibly blame himself for everything that goes wrong, and _maybe_ that little voice has a point.

He’s quitting drinking, that is _more_ than enough change in his life for now and his head still hurts like hell. So that little voice can shut the flying fuck _up._

“That so?” Clover asks. He doesn’t seem bothered. He glances at his scroll casually, then up. “Well, hey. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Qrow opens his mouth, then shuts it, because in the span of a few seconds, Clover’s hooked another support beam with his weapon. He tugs. Somehow, the cavern _doesn’t_ collapse down on them. Somehow, only a section of wall comes tumbling down, filling in the hole almost perfectly. He turns and smiles.

“My semblance is _good_ fortune. Lucky you, huh?”

If Qrow has to pinpoint the moment when his soul leaves his body, it’s _probably_ when this cocky bastard fucking _winks_ at him. He—goddammit. _Goddammit._ This—lucky bastard? Lucky bastard—has absolutely no right to— _ugh._

At some point, Clover’s looked away and tapped into comms. He’s giving an update. And now he’s walking away, and Qrow just—sheathes Harbinger and follows him and doesn’t say a word.

* * *

The good news is that the group, consisting of Alpha (Qrow, Clover), Bravo (Winter, Harriet, Marrow), and Charlie (Vine, Elm, Jaune, Ren) has finally managed to corner the geist. The _bad_ news is that it now has a much bigger body, is alarmingly agile for something so massive, _and_ it’s added dust to its body. 

Other good news, however, is the fact that as undeniably effective as the Ace Operatives are, Jaune’s looking at Ren with that _I’ve-got-a-really-dumb-plan-that-might-just-work-somehow_ look. He puts a hand on Ren’s shoulder, activates his own semblance.

Ren gets it. He closes his eyes, and concentrates. And suddenly, the geist that has been confused enough by so many little moving targets has no targets left to focus on at all. It sweeps the room frantically, turning this way and that but seeing absolutely nothing.

Vine’s arms glow yellow and extend, pinning the geist’s arms to the cavern wall. Elm leaps in and plants her feet—quite literally, and that keeps it motionless but still full of lots of volatile gravity dust. Marrow throws his weapon, slicing off bit by bit of gravity dust, each one carefully caught and lowered to the ground by various others. Harriet, Winter, Clover, Qrow.

At last, the last bit of dust is gone. Qrow leaps up from an icy ledge, digging Harbinger into the target’s back and climbing up to the top. Clover wraps his weapon’s line around the geist’s mask, and _pulls._

It comes loose, just in time for Qrow to slam it to the ground with the business end of Harbinger now in sword form. The geist’s mask cracks, and with it the grimm dissolves into black dust.

Ren lets his semblance fall, and the room returns to color. Jaune holds up his hand for a high five. Because nobody else is here who _would_ oblige, Ren does. Just this once. This will not become a recurring thing.

“Atlas Control, this is Clover. Mission accomplished,” the leader of the Ace Ops says into his earpiece. He sheathes his weapon.

“Hey, you two,” Elm says cheerfully, “neat trick you’ve got there! Semblances, or…?”

“Well,” Jaune supplies, “Ren’s semblance can hide people’s negative emotions from grimm. Calm them down. Something like that. Mine’s an amplifier. We were able to hide an entire train not that long ago, so I figured, worth a shot, right?”

“Half of a train,” Ren corrects.

“Half of a train! That’s still fifty percent more train than usual!”

“Nicely done,” says the woman who he’s pretty sure is Weiss’ sister. “It was clear you did not come up with the plan ahead of time, but execution was not terrible for coming up with it on the spot.”

“Thanks…?”

“I believe you meant that as a compliment, Winter,” Vine says with a hint of a smile. 

* * *

“Father, you, um… have a visitor.”

Jacques Schnee levels a glare at the boy peering nervously around the door. He _should_ be nervous. At the rate his _children_ are deserting him, spitting in his face when they wouldn’t _exist_ without him, he’ll be next. But he won’t be next. He’s too spineless, which isn’t ideal but is better than _Weiss_.

He slams down his glass on the arm of his chair. “I _told_ you I didn’t want to be disturbed. Why did you let them in?”

“I didn’t. He… let himself in.”

On that note, a gloved hand pulls the door the rest of the way open, and its bearer stands there. This is the day when the dead walk and talk, apparently. This dead person, however, is someone Jacques is _much_ happier to see.

“A spitting image of you, this lad, Jacques. Creepily so, I might add,” Dr. Arthur Watts says, and Jacques has to take a second to process this.

Those stupid _animals_ might have found someone to replicate the old transmissions, after all. Arthur is here in the flesh, and despised them just as much if not more.

“Whitley, leave us, and shut the door,” Jacques commands. He’ll undoubtedly listen outside, but there is nothing he could do if he wasn’t a spineless coward. “I said _leave us._ ”

Whitley leaves. With that, Jacques looks to Arthur, steeples his fingers, and says, “You’re supposed to be dead.”

“That _is_ what I wanted people to think,” Arthur says wryly. “You’re right. However, I’ve heard things about you too, Jacques. _Namely_ , that you have an Ironwood problem.”

“Before today, he would have been the biggest,” Jacques replies. “I trust you’ve seen the news? Those _animals_ are back. The resources I’ll be wasting dealing with them are resources I _could_ be using attempting to win this bloody election, and that _bastard_ Ironwood is costing me more money every day with his embargo. I’d lay off every employee in Mantle if I could—that would show _Vox Faunus_ what their _demands_ get them.”

Arthur strokes his chin thoughtfully. “What if I said you could have your cake... _and_ eat it too?”

Jacques smiles. He gestures for Arthur to take a seat and says, smoothly, “You have my attention.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winter's weapon has been dubbed Hippeastrum, because it's a flower in the same subfamily as the amaryllis and is commonly mistaken for the amaryllis despite being a different yet closely related plant. The amaryllis flower is seen as a symbol of pride, determination, and hard-won achievement, among other things, and the hippeastrum flower can be a few different colors but there is a variety of it colored white. Also flowers are neat and I wanted to give her weapon an actual name.
> 
> Yes, you will meet the fourth former member of Team SKVE sooner or later. Probably sooner knowing her, she's fun to write no matter the context. Actually, you already did meet her, very briefly, in the ~~prologue~~ Eudico short. I'll give you a hint: her real name hasn't been revealed yet ~~and isn't in Warframe canon but I gave her one.~~
> 
> Thursby's semblance _is_ essentially controlling technology, and it sure is lucky he unlocked it when he did. Otherwise... well, there's a reason his nickname in Warframe canon is Legs, and a lot of it's some tragic irony.
> 
> Clover's former teammate in the Ace Ops... well, if you pay any attention to what I say in Discord y'all probably know at this point. If not, it'll be revealed in story at some point!
> 
> Exactly one scene was written by Flamesong. Which is it and why? Big thanks as per usual, this story would definitely not be anywhere near as cool if it was just me working on this. :D


	7. Part 1 Episode 5: Divided We Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox Faunus starts the search for new allies in their fight against Jacques Schnee and the Schnee Dust Company. Nobody is sure what happened to Ruby, Blake, and Nora yet, Weiss and Yang's whereabouts are about to become a lot less unknown. Meanwhile, Eudico runs new employee orientation.

Rudy Zuud, at first glance, doesn’t look like much, and certainly not the engineering genius multiple people so far have claimed she is. Probably her most distinguishing feature is a long tan overcoat with more pockets than most people would know what to do with, and she clearly isn’t most people because not one of them looks empty. Her bushy brown hair is stuffed under a paler, worn baseball cap, and all it takes is one look at Ruby for her eyes to go narrow.

“You know what,” she says with a shrug, “I’m not gonna fucking ask. So Ticker’s been talking with Eudico, huh?”

“Um, yeah?” Ruby says. “So you must be—”

“Zuud. And I thought I was done with this bullshit. Word of advice, kid, get out of here while you still can.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass. What are you doing here if you don’t think she—I mean  _ Vox _ —can change anything?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to a human  _ child _ .” On that note, Zuud pushes past Ruby and heads inside. Ruby frowns, but follows her, and eventually Zuud mutters, “I’m  _ not _ here for her. I’m here because I owed Thursby’s parents one, and unlike  _ some people _ I don’t let my debts stay unpaid.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ticker asks, because it’s conveniently then that they come to the room Thursby’s in.

“Zuud,” Eudico greets evenly. “Been a while.”

“Cut the crap,” Zuud says immediately. “What do you need me to do, and what do you have for me to do it with?”

“Hi,” Thursby says.

“I know the basics, you little shit—” And then Zuud stops, because Brice the blue AK-100 waves. “Fuck. Okay. Yeah, won’t be easy, but at least I’ve got something to work with.”

“Can you do it?” Biz asks.

“Of course I  _ can _ , did you forget who you’re talking to? Assuming you want me to make actual, functioning prosthetics and not just guns, I’m going to need electricity dust, and I’m going to need  _ your _ semblance.”

She pokes Biz squarely in the chest. He nods, “Of course.”

“Blake and Nora are getting the dust,” Ruby supplies. “Well. Mostly Blake. Nora’s her backup if it goes bad. Which it won’t. Blake knows what she’s doing!”

“I’ll see if I can get in touch with LD later,” Eudico says, looking at her scroll. “We’re going to need allies. But right now, looks like I’ve got to go.”

Biz raises an eyebrow. “Mines are closed today, Eudi.”

“Not for me. New worker orientation. You lot,” she looks meaningfully at Ruby, “missed it by a day. Keep in touch, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

* * *

“You,” Jaune says emphatically, “were  _ incredible! _ Like, I know we were incredible of course too, but it’s just the two of us, we don’t have Nora or anyone else, and the whole… masking everyone plan wouldn’t have worked at  _ all _ if you hadn’t all sprung into action like that!”

“It was  _ very _ impressive,” Ren agrees. He suspects Nora would be gushing as well if she was here, and while gushing over impressive teamwork isn’t… really… his thing, he’ll do his best. “Your teamwork was flawless.”

“Oh, the way you took down that geist, it was amazing! You didn’t need to plan anything out, you knew exactly what to do!”

Clover grins easily. “Well, Ace Ops are picked to perfectly complement each other. So, we can focus on our assets and leave our liabilities behind.”

At that,  _ Qrow _ of all people looks sharply at Clover, who either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. There’s something there. Winter doesn’t care enough to determine what it is.

“Some of us are all asset, zero liability,” Marrow says confidently. His tail’s wagging, even as Clover gives him a skeptical look, and Elm snorts. “What? You think I’ve got some liabilities, Elm?”

“Your brains, for one,” Elm says without skipping a beat. “We  _ all _ have liabilities.”

Marrow groans.

Vine supplies, “You  _ did _ ask.”

“Tell you what,” Clover says, striding over and clapping Marrow on the shoulder. “I’ll pretend you don’t have any liabilities, you pretend  _ I _ don’t have any liabilities.”

“I don’t know if I can go that far,” Marrow says skeptically. His tail starts wagging again. “Someone has to remember you  _ have _ liabilities. That’s what teammates are for.”

Watching this from a distance, Winter finally approaches, joining her own academy teammates Vine and Elm. There was a fourth member on Team SKVE, once upon a time. Winter’s partner, a very long time ago. She never wonders what she’s doing now. She’s probably dead.

“Good riddance,” Winter mutters under her breath, but not quietly enough.

“Catherine?” Vine asks, and receives a curt nod. He and Elm exchange glances.

“As I said, good riddance. She  _ was _ the liability.” She clears her throat. “I’ve contacted the General, he’ll be arriving momentarily.”

General Ironwood does arrive within the next several minutes, while the students from Beacon are chatting away with the Ace Operatives. Unfortunately, he’s not the only one to arrive. As if summoned by Winter’s thought that Weiss too should be here, one gaudy airship comes swooping in without any ceremony.

One moment, the situation is going well. The next,  _ Jacques _ is here, demanding to know what is going on here with all the pompous air and authority of a councilman. Never mind the fact that elections aren’t for some time, and Jacques is  _ not _ projected to win it.

Winter shouldn’t bother dealing with him at all. She wouldn’t, if it wasn’t for Weiss, who could be anywhere but hasn’t answered her scroll in days.

“The General,” Winter says curtly, stepping up beside him, “is well aware of the intricacies of Council law, as am I. Do you have a reason for being here, or are you here to grumble over the confiscation of property that has not been in use for years?”

Jacques looks at her, and it’s a struggle to maintain the mask. It  _ always is _ with him, no matter how long it has been, and no matter how far in the wrong he is. He always turns it around on her.

This was a mistake. She can’t retreat now.

“Winter,” Jacques greets with all the coldness of the name he married into. “How lovely of you to join us.”

“The pleasure is not mine,” Winter replies equally coldly. 

A warning look from Ironwood silences her before she can continue to needlessly antagonize him. He’s right. She shouldn’t needlessly antagonize him. It’s beneath her. Unfortunately, it is  _ not _ beneath Jacques.

“Of course not. Emotions of any kind would be beneath an Atlesian Specialist, after all.”

“You aren’t one to talk. Have you ever felt anything?”

Jacques strokes his chin apprehensively. He’s actually thinking about it, which is  _ definitely _ not a good thing. “The disappointment every parent has when their children refuse to respect them, never mind that they wouldn’t  _ exist _ without you. Worry when your own daughter disappears without a trace, and your wife only starts to drink more.”

“There’s a reason Mother drinks so much. You know  _ exactly _ what it is.”

“Of course. The shock of all her children but one leaving her? I imagine that must take quite a toll. Not that you would care about your own family, Winter.”

“The only family I have is Weiss.”

“Really? Then I suppose you would know where she went off to. Unless, of course, she ran away from her own dear sister? Be realistic. You have no family left to speak of, and you can’t blame me for that.”

The only thing stopping Winter from attacking him right here, right now, like he deserves, is the fact that General Ironwood is right here and it would  _ not _ look good for his right hand woman to murder someone in broad daylight. It would set back the Amity Project, and therefore set back the entire world.

He’s not worth the effort. But Weiss is. Ironwood gives her a look. Her hand unconsciously went to Hippeastrum. She returns it to her back, clasps it against the other, and glares at Jacques.

“Are you implying something, Jacques?” Ironwood asks.

“Only that neither of you have the moral high ground you think you do, and that whoever wins the seat on the Council will ensure you don’t have the political high ground, either.” Jacques smiles thinly. “I didn’t come here to beg for an abandoned mine. Why should I, when your overextension has personally given me the means to be rid of you  _ and _ your embargo?”

“Goodbye, Jacques,” Ironwood says curtly. He turns to leave, and Winter follows him without a word. They watch him depart wordlessly.

Only then, when Jacques is in the sky, does Winter say, “He has Weiss. He  _ has my sister.” _

“I believe you,” Ironwood says firmly. “However, I can’t authorize a rescue mission based on suspicion alone. Not now of all times. If you could secure evidence, that would be a different story.”

Winter sighs. “Understood, sir. I’ll continue to try her scroll.”

* * *

In the middle of a card game that is thoroughly  _ not _ one Weiss was familiar with before today, a knock comes on the door, and both Weiss and Yang look to it. Weiss sets her cards face-down on the bed, next to the draw pile and the discard pile. Yang does not.

“Good news, that’s not my father,  _ he _ wouldn’t knock. Either Mom or Whitley. Probably Mom.” Weiss looks to Yang. “What do you think?”

Yang wordlessly deals her a card.

“Point of order,” Weiss says, “and fuck you.”

“Not in front of your mom.  _ If _ it’s your mom.”

Whoever’s at the door knocks again, more insistently this time. The odds of it being Whitley are just increasing more and more. 

“I don’t think it’s your mom. Want to traumatize your brother?” Yang asks, putting her own cards down.

“Not like that. I mean, playing this game would probably do the trick, seeing as he wouldn’t be able to run his mouth  _ and _ would have to deal with both of us for an extended period of time.”

“You’re not wrong. But I have a better idea.” She raises her voice. “Door’s unlocked!”

As it opens, Yang leans over the cards, leans in farther than she needs to—

And oh-so-gently presses their lips together. It’s to piss off Whitley, and by extension Jacques, Weiss reminds herself. But it’s so easy to forget that, now, with Yang in her arms and her in Yang’s. It’s so easy to forget that they’re essentially in a glorified prison, but also that this isn’t real, there’s nothing actually here between them.

Is there? Sometimes, Weiss thinks there could be.

Someone who is clearly not Whitley clearing her throat jerks them both apart, and Weiss turns awkwardly to face her mother, face burning.

“Hi Mom,” Weiss manages.

“Hi Mom Schnee!” Yang says with absolutely no shame whatsoever. She waves. Weiss tries to smack her and misses, not unintentionally.

“If I didn’t know better,” Willow observes, “I’d say you weren’t faking it at all.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, we’re just practicing for our future girlfriends,” Yang says smoothly. “Assuming of course that  _ someone _ will actually  _ ask my sister out already. _ ”

“How am I supposed to do that without any connection to the outside world, or any knowledge of where she  _ is?” _ Weiss retorts.

Willow clears her throat. “About a connection to the outside world…” She holds out two scrolls, one to each of them. “I don’t think your father will notice these are gone, but this is the most I can do for now.”

Weiss takes hers first, switches it on, and— _ yes _ it’s her scroll, and oh  _ no _ she has a few hundred unread messages. Over three hundred are from Winter alone. Oh no. Well, good news, if anyone can get her out of here it’s Winter.

She looks up at Willow, blinks back tears. “Mom, I… Thank you.”

Willow takes a sip from a new bottle of wine in an attempt to hide her own not-entirely-dry eyes. “I only ask that you wait, just a little longer, to see if he notices their absence. Please be careful.”

“Of course.”

“We’ll do our best,” Yang says in a tone that suggests she’s more likely to date a guy then be careful. “No luck on our weapons?”

“They’re kept elsewhere, and would be missed.” Willow sighs. “I’ll do what I can. I’m afraid it… isn’t very much.”

With that, she leaves, and Weiss begins to read her many,  _ many _ missed messages. There are several from Qrow, Oscar, Jaune, and Ren. Nothing from Ruby or Blake, or Nora. And, as she reads, the number of unread messages from Winter increases from 359 to 360.

The final one reads,  _ I know you’re not getting these, but… please answer, Weiss. Please. _

Weiss takes a deep breath. She begins to tap out a reply before looking to Yang. “Anything from Ruby or Blake?”

Yang shakes her head. “Nothing from Nora, either. I’ve even got three from your sister. I didn’t think she knew who I was.”

“I’ve got three hundred,” Weiss replies. She looks down at her scroll. How… does she  _ do _ this?

_ Hi, Winter, I’m fine please don’t worry? _ Not urgent enough.

_ Hi, Winter, I’m not fine Father kidnapped me and Yang, please help? _ Possibly  _ too _ urgent. And would probably result in Winter burning down the house. As satisfying as that would be… no.

_ Hi, Winter, I’m fine but Father kidnapped me and Yang. We’re physically fine but we can’t leave and we only just got our scrolls back. _

That last one covers all the bases, and yet Weiss hesitates. Eventually she settles for a simple, quick  _ hi Winter _ . The answer comes  _ immediately _ .

“Well, we’re not out of the woods yet.” Yang slings an arm around Weiss’ shoulders, drops her scroll onto the bed. “But considering that Uncle Qrow is currently threatening to burn down your house, we might be close to it.”

* * *

“And… Callow Tock.” Eudico reads the last name off the list and looks up wearily. A pale man with braided brown hair, gold eyes, and a strange metal belt, not coincidentally the only one left in the room, raises his hand with a grin. “Right. You’re with me for orientation. You done this before?”

The question’s a formality, and yet Callow genuinely seems to consider this for a moment. Eudico raises an eyebrow. She really isn’t paid enough for this. Or enough at all.

“Nope!” Callow proclaims cheerfully. “How hard can it be?”

“Very hard, very dangerous, particularly if you don’t have aura. I’m guessing you don’t.”

“You guess… incorrectly!”

“Really?” 

Callow’s aura flares to life in response. It’s a bright neon purple. Eudico makes a pleased noise and marks it down. She considers, briefly, whether it’s worth attempting to recruit him for Vox.

Maybe not yet.

“Well hey. Maybe you’ll do well here.” Eudico’s expression darkens. “As well as any of us can, in any case.”

Callow nods in understanding. “Of  _ course _ . The only ones who really do well here are the humans.”

“If I was more optimistic, I’d agree with you. Been here too long to be optimistic.”

He nods more vigorously. “Say… if you’re that unsatisfied, why not join the White Fang? Or Vox Faunus, I’ve heard  _ they’re _ back. They  _ did _ get results, perhaps even more than the Fang.”

Is… Callow trying to  _ recruit her? _ For her  _ own group _ . Which she happens to know he’s not a part of, because they’ve barely started. That’s… ironic.

“They did get results,” Eudico agrees. “Tell you what, we’ll talk more later.”

It doesn’t take Eudico too long to figure out that while Callow is… a  _ little _ more enthusiastic about the idea of murder than any reasonable person would like, he clearly bears no love for Jacques Schnee or his company. Vox can use that. So, before she heads home for the day, she points Callow in the right direction. Then, she ducks away into a supply closet and dials the last number on her list of contacts.

Little Duck—not her real name, but the one most of Atlas and Mantle know her by these days—picks up after the third ring.

“LD. Glad you picked up,” Eudico greets after taking a quick glance around, just to make double-sure nobody’s here. “I’m sure you’ve heard, Vox is back. I’m going to need your help with this one.”

“About voiddamned time,” she agrees. “What’ve we got?”

“I know. I’m sorry. Glad to have you.” Despite herself, despite everything, Eudico smiles. “First things first, I want to find us some allies. That’s where we went wrong last time. White Fang’s a good bet these days. Ever since Ghira Belladonna stepped down… wait. Hold on.”

She lets herself go silent, stares at an empty dust crate as she processes this. Those kids might be more complicated than she thought, even if Red wasn’t making up the whole  _ fate of the world _ thing.

“Eudi? Still there?”

“Yeah. It’s just… Belladonna. Do I really have Ghira’s daughter sleeping on my couch?”

“Huh. Do I want to know?”

“Probably don’t need to yet.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, I want to reach out to both the Fang and the Happy Huntresses. I know Robyn’s group are mostly human, but they seem the decent sort. Protecting Mantle from those high and mighty folks up in Atlas. Which one do you want to take?”

“Hill, no question. White Fang’ll want me to prove I’m faunus, and you know I don’t like showing off.” Little Duck pauses, considers her words for a moment. “Not in that sense, anyway. Got a secret identity to keep.”

“Sounds good. Come to my place. I’ve got a good group here already, we’ll divvy up teams. See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Click. Eudico lowers her scroll from her ear, pockets it, and heads out. Odds are she won’t beat LD there, but it’s worth a shot. Particularly because she doesn’t want to come home to Biz and LD screaming at each other again. Here’s to hoping it’ll be different this time.

Here’s to hoping a lot of things will be different, this time.

* * *

_ HUNTSMAN LICENSE ATLAS _

_ Name: Ren, Lie _

_ LN: 63700 - 16778 - 13563 _

_ Place of Issue: Atlas _

_ Authority: Atlas Academy _

_ Restrictions: Class C _

They’re not students anymore. They’re actual huntsmen.

Ren exchanges glances with Jaune, whose grin is wide and who looks about ready to burst from sheer excitement. They’re… huntsmen now. General Ironwood  _ promoted them _ .

“I know this is coming a little ahead of schedule,” Ironwood continues, “but Brothers know you deserve it. So do your friends, but without them here…” 

“It’s a security risk,” Winter finishes. “The others will be granted their own licenses when they have safely arrived here.”

_ When, _ Ren observes, not  _ if _ . As Ironwood continues his speech, Ren watches Winter, takes note of how uncharacteristically fidgety she is. She knows something.

Unfortunately, she leaves when Ironwood does. Penny doesn’t, and neither does Jaune or Qrow. Interestingly enough, Qrow too is paying more attention to his scroll than usual.

“What’s going on?” Jaune asks, earning a curious look from Penny and a sharp look from Qrow. “I might be dumb, but I’m not  _ that _ dumb. Come on.”

“You’re not dumb,” Ren interjects. He gets an eyeroll in return.

“Well… we’ve got some good news, and a  _ whole _ lot of bad news,” Qrow says at last. “Good news, we know where Yang and Weiss are, and they’re okay.”

“Winter knows too.”

Qrow nods. “Not surprised. The bad news… there’s no easy way to put this. They’re stuck with Weiss’s father, and they can’t leave.”

“That’s… illegal,” Penny observes quietly.

“So’s a lot of things. Money works wonders in letting shitty people get away with shitty things.”

“No news on Ruby?”

“Or Blake, or Nora.” Qrow sighs. “We’ll figure this out. I can do some scouting, figure out where they are  _ in _ the Schnee Manor and how to get them out.”

“I have heard absolutely nothing of this conversation, and I will continue to hear nothing of this conversation.”

“She means she’s with us,” Ren guesses.

“There’s nothing I can do to talk you out of helping, huh?” Qrow asks, and gets three nods. “Fine. Just act natural for now, I’ll go scope things out.”

On that note, he leaves, doubtless to turn into a bird. The remaining three look at each other.

“If they can get through to Qrow and Winter,” Jaune says slowly, “then… can we get through to them?”

Scrolls come out. The answer, it turns out, is a resounding yes.

* * *

“And that should do it,” Zuud says at last, sitting back. “Try moving around, kid.”

“What if it doesn’t—” Biz is cut off by Thursby flexing his new fingers experimentally. “I… suppose that question is answered, then.”

“Shouldn’t have doubted me in the first place.”

Thursby slowly gets to his feet, then nods vigorously. “Yeah, this works… really, really well! Thanks, Zuud, yes I really must yell! Mom really wasn’t kidding when she said you were the best! Back before… well. The rest.” He sobers up. Ruby offers him a sympathetic glance from where she’s been sitting in the corner, mostly staying out of the way and keeping an eye on Biz’s scroll.

As if on cue, it buzzes with a new message from Eudico.  _ On my way back, LD’s coming and might get back before me. Please at least try not to immediately start arguing. _

Well, whoever this LD is, she isn’t even here and Biz is  _ already _ arguing with Zuud, over… Vox Faunus. Oh boy. She sends a text back saying as much and that Blake, Nora, and Ticker are watching the entrance, but she’ll do her best to keep things relatively calm—also that this is Ruby, by the way, although Eudico probably was able to guess as much—and gets up.

“I’m not sticking around to get blown to bits a second time without a damn better reason to,” Zuud says flatly. “Goodbye, Bishop.”

_ Argument’s over, _ Ruby texts Eudico as Zuud grabs her stuff and heads out.  _ I… don’t think Zuud wants to stick around. _

Eudico’s response is disappointed, but not surprised. That aside, Ruby gets to her feet and returns Biz’s scroll to him.

“Someone named… LD is coming?” Ruby says hesitantly. “Eudico says to try not to argue with whoever that is. You know who that is?”

“Yes,” Biz says with a sigh.

Thursby, now seated on the couch in a much more comfortable-looking position, nods a lot more energetically. “Yeah! That’s Little Duck. She’s a super cool vigilante, probably a huntress, damn well has the skills to be the best!”

“She’s not a huntress.”

“Really? How come? Would have sworn she’d be one.”

“That is not my story to tell. You’re correct that she has the skills to be one, but she uses them for petty thievery.”

“Hey! My thievery is  _ not _ petty.”

As a figure materializes leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Biz groans. The figure, probably Little Duck, waves cheekily, and Ruby swears she’s seen her somewhere before.

The… photograph. In Biz’s storeroom. Maybe. In person, she  _ really _ calls Blake to mind, minus the notable lack of cat ears, and a woman called Little Duck probably isn’t a cat faunus. She’s got a turtleneck sweater on and a pullover hoodie over it, long pants, boots… strangely, she  _ doesn’t _ have gloves on, just a scarf tied over her mouth. Black eyes, black hair.

And an expression that suddenly becomes concerned as she takes in the amount of dried blood on the couch, and Thursby’s new,  _ very _ robotic limbs.

“The fuck happened to you?” Little Duck asks, raising an eyebrow. “You didn’t have those yesterday.”

“Long story, SDC.” Thursby shrugs. “But hang on. You’re  _ Little Duck. _ You  _ know me? _ What the fuck?”

“Seen you around a few times. Everyone has. If you’re not in any danger of dying,” Little Duck looks meaningfully at the couch, “we should probably get that cleaned up before Eudi gets back. She might cry. Who are you?”

It takes Ruby a few moments to realize she’s talking to her. “I’m Ruby. I’m… well…”

“SDC threw some kids in the mines, she and a couple of friends included, Eudi practically signed adoption papers on the spot. Wrong place, wrong time, all it takes these days.” Biz adds, with more than a little bitterness, “All it ever took.”

“Cool,” Little Duck (LD?) agrees. “Honestly, this is Eudi we’re talking about, I’m not surprised. Guessing those were your friends outside? Think one of them might have heard me come in. Props to her if she did.”

“Nora and Blake,” Ruby supplies. “And Ticker. You might know her?”

LD’s eyes widen. She smiles an equally wide, satisfied smile. “I sure do. Not surprised Ticker got involved fast. She’s a good sort. So are you, Legs. And you, Red.”

Biz, very aware of who’s been omitted from that list, glares at her but says nothing.

“Uh… Legs?” Thursby asks. “Is that a nickname? I got new arms too, don’t have no shame.”

“Well, yeah. But calling you ‘Arms’ doesn’t have the same ring to it. Neither does Limbs. ‘Sides. You’re one of us now. You need a proper nickname. Like Legs.”

“Little Duck,” Biz says wearily,  _ “no.” _

“Little Duck,  _ yes. _ We got Vox, me, Biz, Rude Zuud—don’t look at me like that, you just saw it’s true—got to have names for everyone. Ticker too. I’d call her Stardust based on her semblance, but that’s what she seems to call everyone she likes already.”

The front door clicks and Eudico comes in, followed by Blake, Nora, and Ticker. “Right,” she says, before even quite making it to the living room. “First order of business for the new Vox…  _ wow _ Zuud did a good job there. Wish she’d stuck around. Anyway. We’ve got a good mix of old and new blood already, but I want to find us some allies on the outside.”

“I’ve got dibs on Robyn Hill,” LD says. “Who wants to come with?”

“This is…  _ probably _ obvious,” Ruby says with a nervous laugh. “But who’s Robyn Hill?”

All eyes go to her, briefly, before Eudico nods in understanding and says, “They’re new around here. Robyn’s… well. She’s human, but so are the two of you. Good sort.”

“Robyn graduated Atlas Academy with her team, and unlike most teams coming out of there, they didn’t immediately lose all individuality and become military bootlickers,” Ticker supplies.

“Trust me, a lot of teams coming out of there were  _ already _ bootlickers,” LD says with a grin. “But yeah. They split up for a while, came back plus one, started calling themselves the Happy Huntresses, and now they’re protecting Mantle since Atlas doesn’t give a damn anymore. Not much of one, anyway. Guessing that means you’re with me?”

“Definitely. Well. What’s the other option?”

“The White Fang,” Eudico says. “I’m heading there, and it’s  _ probably _ for the best if neither Red nor Sparky come with me. Shadow?”

Blake looks alarmed for a brief moment before nodding quickly and wordlessly.

“We’re going to see the Happy Huntresses!” Nora proclaims, and holds out her hand for a high-five. Ruby high-fives her back. “They sound cool.”

“Yeah!” Ruby agrees.

“I’ll come with the—” Thursby begins, only to be cut off.

“Absolutely  _ not _ ,” Eudico says firmly. “You had one foot in the void earlier today, and they’re still looking for you.  _ You _ are going to stay here and lie low.”

“Both feet and more,” Thursby says  _ all _ too cheerfully. “You’d think I was in a war.”

“Not the point, and you know it. You’re staying here.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Biz offers. “Not particularly keen on the White Fang myself.”

“Great. In that case…” Eudico’s gaze sweeps the room. “I think that’s everyone. Let’s get a move on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First order of business: some of you, particularly Warframe fans, may remember Teshin being a SDC enforcer. He has been retconned and replaced by John Prodman since it didn't make a lot of sense for him to serve the ~~Corpus~~ SDC anyway, and this fic and its overall series are planned out a lot better now. You'll see him in a more significant role later.
> 
> Second order of business: nothing really but I hope y'all have a good day. <3 Feel free to leave us questions, comments, concerns, thoughts, memes, jokes, anything really!


	8. Part 1 Episode 6: United We Stand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous fishing rod incident is, at long last, elaborated on. Ruby, Nora, Ticker, and Little Duck pay the Happy Huntresses a visit, and meet someone very interesting. Oscar prepares for life without Ozpin. Blake and Eudico meet with the White Fang, and find some old friends in the process. Weiss and Yang are coping with house arrest, and it helps somewhat when you no longer are completely cut off from the outside world. And, most of all, _someone_ is watching, and he isn't the only one.

"So," Clover says. "You come here often? To Atlas, I mean."

"Sometimes." Qrow shrugs carelessly as he stares out the window at the courtyard of Atlas Academy, steaming mug of academy coffee in his hand. "Guess you know why, now."

"Mmm." 

Clover sips his own coffee and tries not to think about the fact that he just used quite honestly the worst pickup line he's ever used in his life. And, worse, it went completely over Qrow's head. Although maybe that's for the best, considering the aforementioned fact that it was terrible.

"I swear I've met you before," Qrow says after a moment. "Which is stupid, because I think I would have remembered that, and I think you would have too."

"I definitely would have remembered someone like you," Clover says, and internally curses his inability to be remotely smooth at the moment. Regardless, he wracks his brain, and... hmm. "The Vytal Festival, maybe? I remember someone with a semblance like yours in the finals. That might have been you, act—"

Qrow drops the mug. Somehow, it doesn't shatter on impact with the ground, but Qrow steps away from it and from him, and for a few moments Clover is terrified he's crossed a line somewhere. Then he meets Qrow's furious eyes, and realizes he's definitely crossed a line, he just has no goddamn idea what.

"You," Qrow says like it's a curse. Crimson eyes narrow, and a single accusatory finger points at him. "You were that fucker with the fishing rod!”

And now Clover's even more confused. "Kingfisher can be classified as a fishing rod, yes? I thought you were aware of that, what are you talking about?"

Qrow huffs angrily, throws up his hands, and promptly turns into a bird. A crow, specifically, who glares up at him from his spot on the carpet beside the mug. And, suddenly, Clover understands. Why Qrow's pissed off, in any case, not so much the entire turning into a bird.

"If it makes you feel any better, you nearly dragged me off Atlas?" Clover offers sheepishly.

Qrow the crow stares at him and then makes a satisfied noise. And then Qrow's back, standing where he was and leaning down to pick up the mug. There’s little enough coffee left in it that it didn’t spill, but Qrow takes one look at it, makes a face, and doesn’t drink any more.

“I’m sorry. I genuinely had no idea,” Clover says. “I... thought your semblance was like mine.”

“Well, it is.” Qrow shrugs. He turns, strides over to the sink, rinses out the mug, and refills it. Only then does he return his attention to Clover and continue, “That isn’t my semblance. Jimmy… fine,  _ James _ , said your group was clued in.”

“Magic,” Clover realizes aloud. 

He gets a nod as Qrow rips open and drops in a frankly concerning amount of cream and sugar packets. Or really, not all that concerning considering how tasteless the coffee Atlas Academy provides for the military and students generally is.

“To be fair, I’m not sure Oz ever told him.” Qrow’s gaze darkens. He sips his new cup of coffee, or more accurately cream and sugar with some caffeine somewhere in there. “Oz didn’t mention a  _ lot of things. _ ”

Clover nods. “That was a fun conversation.” 

It was, really, about as far away from fun as anyone can get without Grimm being physically involved. Qrow’s scroll buzzes. He opens it, gives it a glance, and slips it back into a pocket. 

“Oscar’s on his way. Wanted to see the other kids off.”

“You think he’s ready?”

“I think,” Qrow says, “he could pass the examination to become a huntsman today, if he wanted to.”

“Probably,” Oscar says from behind them. “Hi.”

“If you think you could pass it, why not try?” Clover asks.

Oscar shrugs. “I’ve seen what having teammates is like. Team RWBY… well, you haven’t met any of them but they’re all really nice, and they all really care about each other a lot. Team JNPR, I never met Pyrrha but… I’ve heard enough about her from Jaune and Nora and Ren that I feel like I almost have. They all still care about her a lot, and really miss her, and… well, they’re moving on like she’s still with them. Like there’s still four members of JNPR and not three.”

“Those teams are best-case scenarios,” Qrow warns. “You could end up in something like mine. Summer’s dead, the only thing Tai and I can talk about without screaming at each other is his dog, and Raven’s… you’ve met her. Unfortunately.”

“I could,” Oscar agrees. “Or I could just… never talk to my teammates again once I graduate. You never know. What about you?”

It takes Clover a bit longer than it should for him to realize Oscar’s talking to him. “Well… Marrow and I are in the Ace Ops—”

“I was going to guess Harriet,” Qrow mutters. “Remind me to never bet against you. Ever.”

“I’ll do my best. I make no promises.” Clover winks and continues, smoothly, “Then there’s Si, although most people know him as Doctor Irmis these days. You’ll be meeting him soon, kiddo. And our fourth old teammate… Nora.”

Qrow, who’d been staring out the window wistfully, snaps his head back around.  _ “What.” _

“Nora Night, not Nora Valkyrie, you wouldn’t know her,” Clover says hastily. “Haven’t heard from her since the CCT went down, but she was running a radio station somewhere in Vacuo. Probably still is, but… well, you never know.”

He checks his scroll for the time, and adds, “We’d better get you there. Maybe it’ll be someone else doing the examinations, but if it’s not, you won’t want to be late.”

* * *

Ruby and Nora exchange glances as they walk up the three steps onto the porch of a large house. This is where the Happy Huntresses make their home, so they were told. Decent people who care about the citizens of Mantle, which sounds good even if they’re no friends of the General. That raises some unpleasant thoughts actually… Just what has Ironwood been  _ doing _ here since they last saw him, at Beacon?

Ruby knocks, and the door swings open to reveal none other than Robyn Hill herself. The same face they’d seen on countless posters on the walk over here. 

“Hello! Robyn Hill here.” She offers a hand and Ruby and Nora both shake it. “What can I do for three ladies like yourselves?”

“Three?” Ruby and Nora look all around and behind them. Ticker’s there, looking at her scroll. Someone else is not. “Oh gods, we lost Little Duck!”

A familiar face materializes out of thin air just behind Robyn. “I’m right here!” 

Robyn startles and whirls around, hand reaching back to where no weapon rests across her shoulders. “It really is you,” she marvels, eyes wide, before turning back to the two human girls on her porch. “Come in and you can tell me what this is about.”

She leads the way into the house’s large living room where two other women are already sitting, each with a mug of hot tea. One stands out with blue hair. The other stands out even more. She has a very large metal helmet or mask covering the entire top half of her head, wide at the bottom and coming to a point like a flower petal, and a wireless keyboard resting on her lap. The mask has no clear gap for vision, with only a single blue light between her eyes. 

Robyn offers her guests tea as well, but all except Ticker decline. They take seats on a single long couch at one side of the room, while Robyn settles down next to the masked woman. 

“So, let’s start with names, shall we? I’m Robyn Hill, running for Council, trying to get Atlas to care about all the people down here in their shadow. You, I've heard of,” she says, pointing at Little Duck. “You’re a legend. Just between us, you do good work, but I should  _ not _ be seen associating with you. May, could you close the curtains, please? Now, you three…”

“Ruby Rose.”

“Nora Valkyrie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hill.”

Robyn snorts. “You’re not from around here, are you?” 

“They aren’t. Sal Ticker.” The woman in question waves, but otherwise seems content to observe how things go. “Good taste in tea, by the way.”

Robyn offers the girls a smile and says, “Just call me Robyn. It’s what the rest of the kingdom does. That’s May Marigold–” She points at the blue-haired woman just returning from the other room, then puts an arm around the masked one. “And Lis Magnolia. Now, would someone mind telling me why you’ve come to the Happy Huntresses? And how you guys know the kingdom’s most renowned master thief?”

“Well, um…” Ruby glances around, but no one jumps in to speak for her. “We’re looking for allies. People who care about ending exploitation. We’re with Vox Faunus.”

Robyn seems surprisingly calm at the name, and nods. “Heard Vox was back. Didn’t think they’d come calling so quickly, though. And you two aren’t even faunus, are you?”

“No, we just… got thrown in the mines anyway. Along with our faunus friend, who’s visiting the White Fang right now.”

“Well…” Robyn pauses. “I’d like to lend you a hand, but you know the election’s coming up. New group or not, the name Vox Faunus has got some baggage behind it. There’s still a lot of people here who’d call you terrorists. I don’t think we can do anything publicly until after the voting’s done. Behind the scenes maybe, but I’d still rather not risk it for now.”

“If I win,” she continues, “as the polls project, then I can try to sway the Council to regulate the SDC more strictly. Some transparency alone would go a long way, I think. I  _ know _ a lot of those ‘accidents’ are not accidents. Still has to be legal, but we’d have some power. Now, if somehow I  _ don’t _ win, and Jacques Schnee gets on the Council…” Robyn shakes her head grimly. “You can bet we’ll be on the front lines right with you.”

“Well that’s good to hear,” Little Duck says. “Thought you’d probably be on our side. And you don’t seem too concerned that I broke into your house.”

Robyn shrugs. “No door stops Little Duck, everybody knows that. Besides, Lis warned us someone was picking the lock on the back door.”

“Really?” LD’s eyes go wide. “That’s a neat trick. How’d you see me?”

Lis smirks, and finally speaks up. “I see  _ everything. _ Anywhere there’s an unsecured camera, I can watch.”

“She acts as mission control for the Happy Huntresses,” Robyn explains. “There are screens inside that mask, and we all wear body cameras. Lis coordinates from here while the rest of us are out there.”

“My semblance is a telepathic link. Anyone I bond to, I can talk to over any distance. I was directing Joanna and Fiona when you all came in, but today’s standoff with the military has just been resolved.”

“That’s a cool semblance! Mine just lets me go super fast.” Ruby crosses the room in an instant and leaves a trail of rose petals on the carpet. “So can you see out of there too?” She leans over to inspect Lis’s mask and the small blue light in the middle. 

The light flicks off. “I can now,” Lis says. She tilts her head slightly to one side. “Wait. You… you have silver eyes.”

Ruby pulls back a little in surprise. “Um, yes, I… I do.” She glances over at Nora, but her friend can only give a slight shrug. 

“That’s so cool! I’ve never met anyone else who had silver eyes before. I was starting to think I was the only one!” 

Lis pulls off the bulky mask and rests it on the table next to her, along with her keyboard as well. She has short brown hair beneath it, decorated with golden pins and ornaments. She has a wide scar across her face, skin bleached pale in a line across both eyes that looks almost more like a splash of liquid or energy than a normal cut or burn. But the most noticeable part is her eyes themselves: irises purest silver like mirrors, a perfect reflection of Ruby’s own… and sclera stained pink as if permanently bloodshot. 

_ “You _ have silver eyes,” Ruby echoes. “What happened to… if you don’t mind me asking.” She gestures vaguely to her facial area.

Lis laughs nervously. “Short version, tried to help someone and got burned. Long version… do you know where grimm come from?”

It takes a moment as Ruby returns to her seat before she realizes it’s not a rhetorical question. “Um… negative emotions?”

“That’s what they’re attracted to, not what makes them. You go far enough away from civilization, you’ll find pools of thick, dark liquid.  _ That’s _ where grimm come from.”

“You got splashed by some of it,” Ticker realizes, and gets a nod. “How are you  _ alive? _ ”

Nora elbows Ruby, looks at her meaningfully. Mouths the word  _ Salem _ . Or possibly  _ salmon _ . Nora making food suggestions that quietly is ridiculous, though. It’s probably Salem, and… yeah, they’d explained everything they saw to Jaune and Nora and Ren once they got to Argus. Including Salem jumping into a pool of dark liquid.

“I mean, I probably wouldn’t be if it was  _ pure _ grimm liquid. Can you call grimm liquid pure?” Lis shrugs and keeps going. “Where I used to live, there was a series of lakes. Most were fine, but one downstream had a trickle of that grimm liquid leaking into it from underground. Known as poison since before my time, but some kids decided to get in there anyway. I went after them, got splashed, went blind for a week. Wasn’t permanent, fortunately. So… yeah. Don’t mind telling the story, but it gets old after a bit, and my mask helps for mission control anyway.”

“And it helps to hide your eyes,” Ruby realizes.

“I guess,” Lis agrees. “Why would I care, though? The red’s a bit weird, but they’re just eyes.”

“You said you’d never met anyone before with silver eyes. There’s… a reason for that. You’re a huntress, right?” Ruby gets a nod and keeps going. “Have you ever been fighting grimm, with someone that meant a lot to you, and you saw them get hurt and…”

Ruby hesitates. She’s not sure how to explain this in a way that won’t have everyone here sans Nora think she’s crazy.

“I  _ might _ know where you’re going with this,” Robyn says slowly. “Not to interrupt. But if you’re going where I think you’re going with this, the answer’s yes. It’s been a mystery for a while.”

“We sort of… got a little overwhelmed,” Lis supplies.

“Robyn got hurt,” Ruby guesses, but it doesn’t come out as a question. “You passed out, and when you woke up the grimm were gone, and you were both still alive. And the last thing you remembered was just…  _ white. _ ”

“How do you know all that?”

“Because I’ve done the same thing. The first time was… One of my friends died in the Fall of Beacon.” Ruby pauses and looks away for a moment. She can’t come out and say  _ Pyrrha was murdered _ . She still doesn’t know for sure if her eyes activated on Cinder herself, or only because of the dragon nearby. “I wasn’t fast enough to save her, but… Have you heard about the giant grimm frozen on the side of Beacon Tower?”

All eyes turn to Ruby. Of course they’ve all heard. Not much news travels between kingdoms these days, but that was in every report about the damage. 

“My silver eyes did that. I don’t know if it’s because I was inexperienced, or if the dragon was just too big, or what, but it turned to stone instead of dying. I’ve used them since then too. When my friend Jaune was about to get hurt. When my friend Blake was about to get hurt. And  _ once _ , I’ve managed to do it intentionally, before it was too late.”

Lis and Robyn still look stunned, and Ticker isn’t faring much better. Little Duck’s face is unreadable behind her bandanna. 

“So… silver eyes kill grimm? How? How does that work? How can they possibly…?” Lis shakes her head and shrugs helplessly.

“I know it sounds like magic. It is. But it works. From what I’ve done and what I’ve been told, it only works on grimm, and only when you’re trying to protect someone. But I’m no expert on the matter.”

“But we do  _ know _ an expert!” Nora exclaims. “You need to meet Maria. Except… we can’t contact her while the SDC has our scrolls.” She slumps back against the couch again and frowns. 

Robyn raises one finger. “I still have a different question. You said there’s a reason we’ve never seen anyone else with silver eyes. Why are people like Lis and you so rare?”

“Because…” Ruby  _ really _ doesn’t want to tell about Salem right now. Even if these people all seem trustworthy, she still barely knows them. And even if she tried, it’s hard to talk about Salem without mentioning Maidens and Relics and how they all tie together, and that’s a whole 40-gallon drum of worms that she’d rather not crack open here. 

“Because there are people who want to wipe us out,” she says finally. “I can only guess at why, but that’s the reason silver-eyed warriors are not well known. Because as soon as one goes public with their abilities, they start getting attempts on their life. I’ve already had a few myself. Which means  _ you _ …” Ruby stares directly into Lis’s eyes. “Need to keep that mask on as much as you possibly can.”

“I understand. I wear it most of the time anyway.” Lis nods. “But… if I really have this kind of power, how do I practice it?”

Robyn agrees. “With the Mantle wall in the shape it’s in, we could really use someone who can kill grimm with a look. We’ve got a massive hole just waiting for an incursion, and the General refuses to give us any supplies to fix it!”

“What?” Ruby and Nora exchange glances. “We met General Ironwood at Beacon. He seemed like a decent person. Not someone who’d ever leave his kingdom undefended.”

“Might have been decent once,” May practically spits, “but right now he’s not taking care of anyone but himself. He and his Ace Ops are doing  _ something _ up at Amity Colosseum, and they’ve been diverting all the supplies Mantle desperately needs. We’re going to confront a supply run tomorrow and try and find out what’s so important he’d risk millions of lives to do it.”

“That’s right.” Robyn nods. “Don’t know for sure if Schnee is involved or not, but we’ll keep you guys updated. 

Ticker suddenly turns to the silent figure beside her. “LD, you know anything about this?”

“Knew Amity was important, don’t know details. I can scout around. Give me a camera and I can plant a direct line to Miss Magnolia anywhere you like.”

Robyn stands up. “You’ve got it.” She crosses the room and shakes Little Duck’s hand firmly. “I like this new partnership already.”

* * *

“You’re  _ late _ ,” is the first thing Dr. Simon Irmis says, and quite loudly at that, when they walk into the training room. He strikes an imposing figure at a height that can’t be much shorter than Hazel, if much less bulky. Long yellow hair without bangs is tied back into a low ponytail. Freckles dot a harsh, angular face with eyes the same shade of yellow peering over reading glasses.

“Sorry,” Oscar says immediately, only to realize he’s not talking to him. He’s glaring over his shoulder. Oscar turns just in time to see Clover throw his hands up in the air.

“By  _ fifteen seconds! _ ” Clover exclaims. “Technically, we’re right on time and you know it.”

Dr. Irmis checks his watch. “Thirty-two seconds.”

“Still ten o’clock!”

The professor’s expression, for a few long seconds, is unreadable. Then he smiles, claps Clover on the arm. “It’s good to see you too, Clover. I’m guessing one of these people is the applicant you mentioned?”

Oscar raises a hand. “Hi. That’s… um. Me. Oscar Pine.”

The doctor gives him a long look. A little longer than normal, actually. And then he pulls out a tablet scroll and starts to type on it.

“Decent amount of aura training, no semblance yet, fast but lacking in strength, fairly promising but we’ll have to see,” Dr. Irmis mutters to himself. He glances up. “Is that your weapon?”

Oscar’s hand finds Ozpin’s cane. Reluctantly, he holds it out. “I’m… borrowing it for now, but it’s similar to what I’d like mine to be.”

“Am I correct in assuming that doesn’t have ranged attack capabilities?”

Oscar blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“He’s asking if you can attack with it from a distance, pipsqueak,” Qrow drawls. “Which I’m pretty sure is a solid  _ no _ .”

“I could throw it?”

“And who,” Dr. Irmis’s eyes narrow as they shift to Qrow, “might you be?”

“Huntsman Qrow Branwen. I helped train him. Come a  _ long _ way since he started.”

“That may be so. We shall see if you have what it takes for Atlas Academy. You are welcome to observe from above, but I’ll need you to leave the room before I can begin the examination.” 

“So  _ I _ have to leave.” Qrow glances at Clover. “And  _ he _ doesn’t?”

_ “He’s _ Atlas military personnel, and more importantly someone who knows to stay out of my way when I’m working.” His gaze lingers on Qrow a bit longer and he adds, “Considering your semblance, I’d think you would prefer to keep your distance.”

“Wh— _ hey. _ What do  _ you _ know about  _ my _ semblance?”

_ “Simon,” _ Clover says sharply. He shakes his head. “I’ll join him upstairs.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m going to. Good luck, Oscar.” Clover grins. “Although from what I’ve heard, I doubt you’ll need it.”

Oscar gives him a nervous thumbs-up in response. They’re barely out the door when Dr. Irmis asks, quite abruptly, “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.” His voice shakes a little. Does the doctor have to be this loud? He’s  _ three feet away. _

“About what I would have guessed. The question here is, why did General Ironwood  _ personally _ authorize you to test into next year’s freshman class at Atlas Academy? And I suppose, there is the question of what exactly Clover thinks  _ he’s _ doing.”

“...excuse me?”

“Not important. Not to what you’re about to be doing, in any case.” Dr. Irmis clears his throat. “When you step into the glowing square in the center of this training room, a larger section of it will be cordoned off, and the first round will begin. There will be eight rounds, each lasting for three minutes. You may take a break after every even-numbered round, if you so desire.”

He taps a button on his tablet, and a four-by-four section on the floor begins to glow yellow. He continues, “Every two rounds, the environment will change. With the first round of each pair, you must simply survive to proceed. In the second, you must eliminate all enemies before the round ends, from both the prior round and any new additions, or this examination will be over. Finally, in the eighth round, there is no time limit, but you must still destroy your opponent.”

“Sounds… simple enough,” Oscar says. “What determines if I… you know, pass?”

“If you successfully make it past the eighth round, you pass automatically. If your aura falls below fifteen percent capacity at any time, the examination will be over. If you fail to eliminate everything that attacks you by the end of the second round in a pair, the examination will be over. If the examination ends prematurely, it will be up to my discretion whether you pass or fail.” 

Dr. Irmis peers through his glasses at something written on his tablet, then pulls them down slightly to look at Oscar. “If you are unable to pass the fourth round at least, consider yourself failed.”

“Right. No pressure.” 

Oscar takes a deep breath. He extends the cane to a length he can comfortably wield it at, and tries to channel Ozpin in his stance. Confidence. He can be confident. He can  _ do this _ . And once he’s in, once Ozpin is out…

But first. He steps up to the edge of the glowing square, takes a deep breath.

“I can do this,” Oscar whispers to himself. If Oz is listening, he doesn’t say a word. 

He steps inside. Glowing yellow walls rise from the floor to the ceiling, cordoning off most of the training room save for an area near the entrance, the area where Dr. Irmis is standing. On the far wall from the observation deck, a display flares to life reading 1:180.

Round 1, 180 seconds to go, but the clock isn’t ticking down yet. So, Oscar watches with bated breath as, around him, the training room becomes a forest. Or, more accurately, cyan hard-light dust forms trees and grass and rocks—

And beowolves. A quick look around tells him there’s six of them. Thirty seconds for each one, and then he’ll have the full three minutes for whatever comes in the second round.

He can do this. He charges for the nearest one with a yell, ducks and rolls under its claws. A jab upwards, then several more in a maneuver Ozpin flat-out refused to call the  _ pokepokepokepokepoke _ . The beowolf falls onto its back, and one more whack makes it evaporate.

That’s when Oscar looks at the clock. 159 seconds to go, he’s doing alright, and then claws connect with his chest and he goes flying. Beowolf #2 just couldn’t wait any longer.

Oscar gets up, blocks its next strike, and  _ kicks _ . It’s oh-so-much-bigger than he is, but he’s stronger and he’s faster and like just about anything, it recoils once it takes some heavy hits to the head and eventually falls.

He doesn’t look at the clock this time, he learned his lesson there. He looks around. Two of the beowolves have grouped up with a third, and one of them’s still on its own. He goes for the one on its own. Slide under, jab up, rinse, repeat.

Three more. They’re far enough away that this time, he does risk a glance. 109 seconds. So far, so good, he can—can he get them to attack each other?

He probably can. He charges, cane at the ready. They’re on the other side of the forest. They won’t be for much longer. Two of the beowolves charge for him. He runs for them. Then ducks, retracts the cane into its base, and  _ shoots it back out. _

Oscar flies over the beowolves, and lands on one. He jabs hard and fast, and it crumples. The second one, now bearing claw marks, staggers, and falls.

One more. He can do this. He can do— _ that’s an alpha beowolf. _

Shit.

The alpha roars. Alpha beowolves—they’re stronger, they’re faster, they’re (marginally) smarter. Easily recognizable by  _ more _ bone-white spines sticking out of their arms, easily recognizable up close that is. At least he’s got some time left. But he doesn’t have time to think, not really.

So he doesn’t. The alpha charges him, and he doesn’t charge for it. Not this time. He jumps, grabs for a tree branch and swings up onto it. Not a moment too soon. It slams headfirst into the tree, nearly knocking him loose.

And, unfortunately, it doesn’t seem to be anywhere near as stunned as a boarbatusk would be. It leaps up, snaps at him, so close he can feel it.

Oscar closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. He feels it hit the ground with a  _ thump _ , and he lets himself fall. Twisting midair, he drives the cane right into its open mouth.

If beowolves can scream, this one certainly did up until the moment it dissolved. Oscar takes a deep breath. His aura isn’t full anymore, but he’s surviving, and it’s certainly nowhere near the cutoff. Although he’s interested to see if the ‘cutoff’ included Oz’s aura too, he’s not curious enough to check. Not now anyway.

Now, he glances to the clock, just in time to see the display read 1:001. A buzzer goes off, and it changes to 2:180. Something roars nearby. Oscar  _ would _ be able to tell what it was, if he wasn’t surrounded by trees that are all the same cyan hard-light dust that the monsters are, and it’s a bit harder to tell what’s here when you’re  _ not _ starting off in the middle.

So, he does the next best thing. He climbs the tree again, pulls himself up to see better, and sees… well, they aren’t beowolves. Or boarbatusks. Ursas. Ursai? Ursai.

They’re slow. They’re heavily armored on their backsides. Most of the Grimm he’s seen so far seem fairly vulnerable if you can get underneath them, so while he’s never actually  _ fought _ ursai before, it’s worth a shot. He swings back down, uses the momentum to hit the ground running, and bursts back into the clearing. One of them is there, and as it catches sight of him it roars again and starts lumbering towards him.

An answering roar comes from behind him, and Oscar dives for the ground, rolls back to his feet. Two ursai. Possibly more, but two to deal with right now. One stands on its hind legs to roar again, and he takes the opening to do the  _ pokepokepoke _ .

Ozpin might hate that name, but Ozpin isn’t here right now and he can call it whatever he damn well wants once it’s just him again. It’s the poky move. Stabby stab. Poky poke. It doesn’t take much to send the Ursa off balance, and then leap onto it and finish it.

Then comes another swipe. This one’s more heavily armored, and unfortunately is smart enough not to go up on its hind legs. He’s faster, but every time he  _ tries _ to hit it, the cane connects with bone instead of flesh and bounces off harmlessly.

But he keeps hitting, careful to keep out of reach of its claws. And, eventually, he manages to whack it in the side of its neck. It roars, stumbles backwards, but still doesn’t go up.

He risks a glance at the clock.  _ Fifteen seconds. _ He has the aura to spare if this doesn’t go well, but if he can’t kill this ursa, and fast… he charges. When it swipes, he dives underneath it, retracting the cane as he does. Underneath the ursa, he twists the cane so it’ll come out facing up, and sends it extending up into the ursa’s chest.

It dissolves. He stands, breathing hard, and looks at the clock just in time for a buzzer to go off again. The clock reads  _ 3:180 _ now, but it isn’t counting down yet. The forest environment fades away, revealing the training room again, and the same glowing square in the middle.

“Your technique needs work, but your improvisational skills make up for your inexperience in combat,” Dr. Irmis calls. Is he  _ always _ this loud? He certainly seems to be.

After another quick glance at the clock to make  _ sure _ it’s not counting down, Oscar walks over to him and retracts the cane. A yellow wall still separates him from that portion of the training room, but it’s fairly translucent now. He can see the doctor looking at him with some interest. That’s probably a good sign.

“I’m not  _ that _ inexperienced,” Oscar says.

“Perhaps not in general. Against the creatures of Grimm, you are. Practice will fix that, and if you are admitted to Atlas Academy, I can personally assure you that you will have  _ plenty. _ ”

“That’s… good. How much time do I have until the next round?”

“Within reason, as long as you need, although I would rather not be here all day. When you are ready to continue, step into the yellow square, and we will proceed with the third round.”

Oscar nods. He pulls out his scroll, finds his aura is at 95%. Although that’s  _ probably _ counting Oz’s aura as well and he’s not entirely sure if he can  _ use _ Oz’s aura so that could get very bad if his aura goes down, and he can’t access Ozpin’s.

Briefly, he closes his eyes and tries to reach out for it, tries to pull some of it to the surface. His aura flickers a darker green.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Irmis asks, and Oscar’s eyes fly open.

“Nothing,” Oscar says automatically, and gets a very skeptical raised eyebrow. He grins sheepishly. “Just… trying something.”

If it comes to it, he  _ can _ access Oz’s aura. Which is good, because his aura visibly shattering when any sensors being used still see him at around fifty percent would be… bad. And would bring up some questions he’s probably not allowed to answer.

He gives the scroll another look. 96%. He  _ could _ wait until it’s full, but the doctor is starting to look impatient, and… he can do this. It’ll look better for him if he doesn’t wait too long between waves. So, he takes a deep breath, extends the cane again, and walks over.

He’s scarcely stepped into the square when the ground starts to rise beneath him. Other areas within the yellow walls are rising too, hard-light dust forming what feels like… sand? Dirt? Sand. And while there’s clearly gaps between the patches of solid ground, they don’t quite seem like thin air.

Oscar kneels at the edge while it’s still rising and gives an experimental poke. Not air. It feels like… water, almost. Which must make this some kind of an island arena. The ground stops rising. He scrambles back to his feet just in time for a pair of palm trees on the central ‘island,’ complete with fake coconuts, to materialize at exactly the right distance apart for him, or something similarly small, to fit through.

Something such as the swarm of lancers that just materialized around the island, buzzing angrily and coming for him. Oscar yelps as he ducks and rolls to the edge of the starting one. At least two stingers pass so closely overhead that he can feel them, and then he leaps for the next island.

He lands in the water’s edge, but it’s not deep. He made it. Which is good because he was  _ really _ not looking forward to swimming. And now all the lancers are coming from one side, which is  _ much _ easier to deal with.

Oscar twirls the cane upwards, grips it with both hands like a bat, and retracts it to something closer to a bat’s length for good measure. The one in front starts to move a little faster, makes a startled noise before a solid  _ THWACK _ sends it flying.

“Who’s next?” Oscar asks as it dissolves in midair. The remaining lancers buzz angrily, and split up to surround him again. Stingers come flying. He dodges two, grabs the third with his free hand, and yanks it down. A quick hit finishes it off.

Two to go, no time to check the clock. These things are fast, and only speed up more as they get closer. But Oscar?

Oscar might not be faster, but he’s not a lot slower and he’s certainly smarter. The third lancer falls quickly. The fourth is too cautious to come close, but too angry to stay further than  _ just _ out of the cane’s reach. Time’s running out, and fast.

So he stretches his arm back, aims, and throws the retracted cane. It connects, drops back to the sand, just as the buzzer goes off to signal the end of this round and the beginning of the next. If it’s another flying thing… he can handle it. But first he dives for the cane.

Then he stands, only to realize he’s looking down the mouth of something  _ big _ . Lightning passing just over his head sets his hair on end, and  _ this _ , whatever it is, is something he’s never seen before. Some kind of water serpent, with  _ lightning breath apparently _ , and as he jumps to the next island it slithers across the previous one’s sand.

So much for it being confined to water. Its body is covered in thick, bony scales, and if Oscar learned anything from the ursai it’s that those are a lot harder to get through, particularly with this thing moving. It’s long, it doesn’t appear to have limbs beside its head and tail and a whole lot of body between the two. 

The cane isn’t going to be very effective unless he can somehow get inside its mouth, and the odds of that happening without being chomped or zapped are low. Particularly considering that it’s not exactly slow, even on land.

So he runs. Leaps from island to island, and tries to figure out  _ what _ to do. It hits him as he begins to circle around to the beginning island again. Not literally. The  _ literal _ lightning hit the palm tree he was running past. But there’s still those two trees back where he started, and it’s wider than he is, but not by much.

If it gets stuck… he can do this. He jumps, blocks a well-aimed attack with the cane, and keeps running. Between the two trees…  _ yes! _

He turns around, holds it up in a defensive posture, and tries not to flinch as the serpent barrels for him. He fails at not flinching. But it  _ does _ get stuck, and roars in clear outrage as it tries to pull itself free.

Oscar takes a step forward, then another. He extends the cane to its full length and, with only a moment’s hesitation, jabs down its throat.

Caught mid-roar, it dissolves into cyan dust. Oscar takes a deep breath, then another, expecting the buzzer to go off any moment. When it doesn’t, he glances up.

_ 4:019 _ , reads the display. He did it… with time to spare? He takes a few steps away from the center so the glowing square won’t be right underneath him, checks his aura. 91%. He… hadn’t  _ thought _ he’d taken any major hits but maybe some of those close calls were closer than he thought.

The buzzer goes off, and Oscar lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The hard-light dust fades away again, returning him to the floor of the training room. He looks to Dr. Irmis, but upon realizing he’s preoccupied with something on his tablet currently, he glances up at the observation room.

Clover looks impressed. Qrow gives him a thumbs-up and mouths something. Oscar, sadly, can’t read lips, so he’s going to go ahead and guess that it was something along the lines of  _ good job _ and not something along the lines of  _ wow that was pathetic. _

“Congratulations! You’re not a complete pushover,” Dr. Irmis calls. “I think you’ll find this, Mr. Pine, is where the examination  _ truly _ begins. Do not stop now.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

As the fifth round begins, the training room gives way to what could easily be the cold, empty tundra found on most of Solitas. The ground inclines upwards, not steeply but enough that the far side of the arena is visibly at least a little higher than the door side. And, at the top of that hill…

Those do  _ not _ look like Grimm. That looks like a flock, if that’s the word, of fluffy birds with webbed feet, hopping around and chuffing amongst themselves merrily. Oscar’s seen a picture of them before, and while it’s a little difficult to tell with the translucent blue coloration brought on by hard-light dust…

Those look like puffins. He’s never seen any in person, but they look… harmless. Dr. Irmis can’t possibly want him to attack those. They’re kind of cute, actually.

But the clock is ticking down. And the doctor hadn’t said kill all  _ Grimm _ , he’d said kill all  _ enemies _ . Which means he has to kill these cute, fat little birds. Except he’s not. Not really. Whatever this is, it isn’t real, it’s an illusion made real with dust.

He still feels bad. But feeling bad isn’t going to get him into Atlas Academy. So he extends the cane, and starts to walk over.

One of the puffins looks at him as he approaches, does a funny little hop closer. 

“I am  _ really _ sorry about this,” Oscar tells it. It opens its beak and makes a sound like a chainsaw revving up. Are puffins supposed to do that?

Whatever puffins are supposed to do, they are absolutely the fuck  _ not _ supposed to have their  _ entire faces open  _ to reveal _ teeth.  _ Teeth  _ all the way down _ . Oh gods oh  _ fuck _ why are there so many teeth???

He lashes out with the cane, and it dissolves. This  _ is _ a Grimm. Somehow. What the  _ fuck. _ He looks to the rest of the flock, only to see their beaks opening. And they keep opening, and opening, with more and  _ more _ teeth and then they charge.

In an instant, Oscar’s knocked off his feet, more murder puffins flying above him now that their target is down. He feels his aura shatter, and, scrambling to his feet, reaches out for Oz’s. Darker green flickers to life around him, and hopefully,  _ hopefully _ the doctor didn’t catch that. Or if he did he doesn’t ask about it. Or something.

The good thing about the murder puffins is: they seem to be smaller, less durable lancers. Not too hard to take on, as long as he can avoid being swarmed again.

The bad thing about the murder puffins is: absolutely everything else. They’re  _ murder puffins. _

He gets rid of two or three before the flock wises up and retreats to try something else. Some of them start to charge down the hill, except he is  _ pretty _ sure puffins are supposed to have  _ two legs and two wings. _

What these things were  _ using _ as wings, now the… murder-puffin-grimm-things are charging on  _ all fours _ . Those wings are  _ definitely _ not supposed to bend that way, and Oscar winces even as he dispatches a few more and leaps out of the way of a dog-pile. Murder-puffin pile?

When the last one dissolves into dust, Oscar takes a deep breath and says, “I take it back. I’m definitely really, really  _ not _ sorry about this.”

As if on cue, the buzzer goes off, the clock resets, and Oscar is surrounded by something he does recognize. The cat Grimm from Mantle. Sabyrs. Five of them. He can take five sabyrs, he just needs to be fast.

A lot of this test seems to be based on speed, actually. Which works out, because he  _ is _ fast! So he leaps into action, keeping a careful eye on all five. Or as best of one as he can, anyway.

One goes down with a jab between the ribs. The second, a couple hard hits to the skull. Three and four charge into each other when he leaps up at just the right time, and five dissolves when he comes crashing down. And… that’s it. All five are down, with half a minute to spare.

That’s… better than he expected. A lot better than he expected. Despite himself, his shoulders sag. He’s… tired. But he can keep going. He can take a few minutes to take a break, and then he’s going to keep going.

He turns to look at Dr. Irmis, just in time to be knocked roughly to the ground by Sabyr Number 6. The cane clatters out of his grip. By the time Oscar fully processes that he missed one, he  _ missed one _ , oh  _ gods _ , he’s already kicked it off and dived for his—the weapon.

He grabs it by the handle. Rolls over. Aims it at the coming sabyr, and fires.

Only problem is, he’d  _ meant _ to eject the bulk of the cane into the sabyr’s face, not fire…  _ something _ else. Whatever it is. Whatever it was, it’s the same green as Oz’s aura and the sabyr dissolves as soon as it hits.

Right as the buzzer goes off. Oscar gets up, dusts himself off. Takes a shaky breath, then another. He can’t afford to miss any more of the Grimm. That was too close. Plus side, ‘his’ aura reads at 79%, which is fairly good considering.

Everything is going great. Except it’s not, because he’s scarcely recovered when Dr. Irmis yells, “What was  _ that?” _

“I still have plenty of aura, and I killed it before the end of the sixth round.”

“Yes, you certainly did!  _ This _ shows your aura to be at seventy—no,  _ eighty _ percent. And yet I have  _ seen _ you take hits that should have brought your aura far lower,  _ and _ your aura appeared to  _ shatter _ during Round 5.”

“Really?” Dirty as it makes him feel to do it, Oscar copies the innocent look Ozpin had often used to keep from being pinned down in a lie. “I… didn’t notice. Do you think that’s my semblance?”

“No, I don’t, and  _ that _ is what does  _ not _ make sense here.” The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “It’s entirely possible that  _ is _ your semblance and I am, for the first time in my life, mistaken. But if that is your semblance, then what was that green bolt from your weapon?”

“Not  _ my _ weapon.” That isn’t a lie. “I... didn’t know it could do that, actually!” And that isn’t a lie either, although the skeptical look he’s getting almost makes him think it is.

“Why  _ don’t _ you have your own weapon?”

“It’s… in the shop.”

Note to self: ask Pietro about that, but not anytime soon. He has enough to deal with already. Like the whole,  _ very big _ Ozpin problem.

“And the General couldn’t have had you wait until you had your own weapon?” Dr. Irmis sighs, shakes his head. “I wish I could say I’m surprised. You may continue when ready.”

Oscar’s ready. Ready as he’ll ever be. If after all this his and Oz’s combined aura is still at eighty percent, he might as well just keep going. How much aura does Oz possibly have, anyway? 

So he steps into the square, as he has three times before. The landscape formed is nothing like he’s seen before here, and not immediately recognizable, even as he  _ swears _ it seems familiar. In his defense, it’s a little hard to figure things out when there’s no colors except pale blue and yellow.

It’s definitely a city of some kind. Tall buildings rise around him, separated by narrow streets and alleyways. On the far side of the training room rises a spectral wall, taller even than the buildings, yet everything is in a distinct state of disrepair.

And finally, it clicks. This is a replication of  _ Mantle. _

Something lets out a cry above him. He looks up, and sees a Grimm with wide wings circling above the buildings.

Plus side: it looks smaller than most of this kind he’s seen before. A lot smaller. 

Minus side: it’s a  _ nevermore _ , and he can’t fly. But there’s tall buildings and the wall. He can bait it into attacking him. Probably. Or… maybe he could do that magic thing again?

Because. That  _ was _ probably magic. He’s been in this long enough to know it when he sees it. And he already used it, so it’s not like he’d be hiding anything as long as he could keep it to, well. Whatever it was. Green lightning?

But Oz’s aura, he can handle. Magic, he’s not so sure about, he’s not sure how he did it the first time. And no matter what he does, he needs to get as close as he can. His head sweeps the area, finds a fire escape going up. He runs for it.

The nevermore shrieks, and Oscar dives. Feathers.  _ Very _ sharp feathers that he could probably take a few hits from, but more than likely he’d get pinned and that is the  _ last _ thing he wants to happen. Fire escape is out, it’s too exposed. He needs some other way to get up there.

Stairs? Stairs. There must be stairs in a building somewhere. He throws a door open and rushes inside, barrels up the staircase, and out onto an upper level of the same fire escape he’d been going for earlier. The nevermore squawks an alarm and fires its feathers again.

How many feathers can it  _ have _ ? That it can shoot, specifically. It has to run out eventually, right?

As he makes it to the roof, he ducks and rolls. A couple feathers graze him, but none manage to pin him down. Keep moving. Just keep moving. It can’t do this forever.

Except, as Oscar finds out after about ninety more seconds of continuing to move, it doesn’t  _ need _ to do it forever. Just to the end of this round, and it  _ keeps doing it. _ Even as the buzzer goes off. 

He remembers, a few moments after he expected the arena to fade away, that  _ technically _ he didn’t fail this round. All he had to do was survive. Now, for Round 8, what he has to do is kill this. This, and whatever else is coming.

In less than one hundred and eighty seconds.

Oscar grabs the cane again, angles it like he had for the sabyr, and shoots. The magic doesn’t come this time. Just most of the cane. Plus side, it  _ does _ manage to catch the nevermore in the chest, but barely grazes it if anything.

The clink of metal against metal draws his gaze, briefly, back to the top of the fire escape. And then he stares, because standing there is what looks like a huntress in jagged armor. Made of the same hard-light dust as everything else, with a large robotic cat next to her, flicking its tail back and forth.

This… can’t possibly be Round 8. Can it?

The huntress twirls a whip in her hand and lashes up with it, catching the nevermore’s talons and dragging it down to the roof. Oscar barely spares her a glance then, instead charges for the nevermore and shoves the cane down its throat.

The nevermore dissolves. The next thing Oscar knows, he’s been tackled to the ground by—something. The cat. The huntress’s cat, claws digging into his aura, fangs bared in his face. The cane goes flying, skitters a short distance away.

Oscar kicks it off him and goes for it. He gets the cane back, just in time to block another attack from the cat. He shoves back at it, only for his feet to be pulled out from under him. The huntress.

He rolls back to his feet, charges for her but at the last second ducks and slides past. The cat chasing him can’t change course fast enough. They both go down, and Oscar takes the opportunity to  _ pokepokepokepoke  _ at what he can.

The huntress stands back up. The cat doesn’t.

She twirls her whip. Oscar holds the cane defensively. He charges with a yell and—

The buzzer goes off. It’s over. It’s over, and Oscar  _ swears _ he sees the spectral huntress smirk as she disappears. The false Mantle dissolves into spent hard-light dust, depositing Oscar back on the ground. The yellow walls fall. Oscar turns to see Irmis, striding over with an unreadable expression on his face.

Only when he’s standing far too close, and is completely violating any and all laws of personal space without actually touching anything, does Dr. Irmis say, “You pass.”

“I—” Oscar’s eyes go wide. “I  _ what?” _

“You pass,” he repeats. “Congratulations. You are, as of right now, officially a student at Atlas Academy for the start of next year. I’ll forward further information to your scroll. I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me what that really was?”

Somehow, Oscar gets the feeling he’s not talking about the fact that he passed.

“Sorry.”

“Si!” Clover calls from the door.  _ “You _ owe me twenty lien.”

Oscar processes this as the group in the observation room makes their way over. “You were betting on me?”

“It was, believe it or not, his idea.” Clover looks meaningfully at Irmis, who audibly sighs. “He didn’t think you’d make it past Round 5.”

“Flying Grimm  _ usually _ bring down applicants without a ranged attack,” Irmis replies tersely. “Although I suppose that doesn’t apply to you. Does it.”

“Hey, those things,” Qrow cuts in before Irmis can look too suspicious again. “The goddamn murder puffins. Clover said they were called fratterkies. Are those… are those  _ common _ around here?”

“That would explain why he didn’t recognize them either. Yes. They camouflage themselves as puffins, but when agitated can attack in much larger swarms than the one found in the simulation.”

“The red-beaked ones explode,” Clover adds cheerfully.

“What the  _ fuck, _ ” Qrow manages to get out, right before Oscar is unceremoniously tackled by one armor-wearing huntsman, his teammate slightly less enthusiastic behind him.

_ “Oscar! _ That was  _ awesome!” _ Jaune practically squeals, lifting the younger boy off his feet.

“Uh… thanks. Can you, um, put me down?”

Jaune sheepishly does so. “Seriously. I would have gone down in like… Wave 3.”

“Five,” Ren counters. “You have improved much since our Beacon days.”

“Yeah, I’d hope so! I was useless back then!”

“Inexperienced, not useless. You were a good leader from the beginning.”

“The beginning where I didn’t even have my aura unlocked, and  _ someone _ threw me off a cliff.” He gives Oscar a look, then shakes his head. “Not you.”

“Oz,” Oscar realizes. “Aren’t you supposed to have… well, a landing strategy?”

“My landing strategy was getting my ass saved by Pyrrha.” 

“It worked,” Ren points out. “But maybe you should have been more prepared.”

“It was  _ fine, _ ” Jaune says very unconvincingly. He glances around the training room, sucks in a breath.

“How much did you catch?” Oscar asks.

“Came in at the tail end of the murder puffins. If this is the  _ entrance exam _ …  _ wow _ am I glad I didn’t try to apply here with fa—”

Ren elbows him. Glances meaningfully over his shoulder, where Irmis is looking a lot less interested in whatever Qrow and Clover are talking about than their conversation. Jaune makes an ‘o’ with his mouth, grins, slings an arm around Ren’s shoulder in a wordless gesture of thanks.

“So I guess… I’ll see what happens,” Oscar says after a moment. “Do you two have any tips I should know now?”

“You have your aura unlocked, so you’re already doing better than I was!”

“If the professor of Grimm Studies is anything like Professor Port,” Ren offers, “I would practice taking a nap without looking like you are taking a nap.”

For a few long moments, both Oscar and Jaune stare at him. Then Jaune goes,  _ “You _ were sleeping in that class too?”

“If I may,” Irmis offers, cutting into the group with all the subtlety of a rolling boarbatusk, “I can assure you that Grimm Studies is  _ far _ from boring. The professor that teaches that particular class prefers a much more hands-on approach than bombastic storytelling that accomplishes little but putting students to sleep.”

“That’s… good?” Oscar tries. “Who’s the professor?”

Irmis smiles, and Oscar already knows the answer. “Who do you think, Mr. Pine? Who do you think.”

Oscar smiles back. “In that case, I look forward to your class. Sir.”

Irmis looks like he’s about to respond, but he turns to the entrance abruptly. Oscar glances over as well, sees someone standing in the doorway. 

“General Ironwood, sir,” Irmis greets respectfully as he comes over. “You’ll be pleased to know that Mr. Pine has passed with flying colors.”

Ironwood raises an eyebrow. “You beat Khora?”

“Um, no,” Oscar says sheepishly. “I might have been able to with a little more time.”

“I suppose,” Ironwood says after a moment, “Dr. Irmis here did not inform you that the vast majority of students that do not complete the eighth round do so by aura disqualification, not by running out of time.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Irmis replies, a tad defensively. “A preconceived idea like that would taint the experiment. Although there were some  _ very _ strange readings from my aura meters. It may have been inherently tainted already.”

“Congratulations, Oscar.” Ironwood ignores that last remark from Irmis, and glances at the door. “I hate to interrupt your celebration, but Doctor Polendina has requested you meet him in his workshop immediately.”

* * *

The Fang has been using this base for a long time, although it’s been years since Blake was here herself. The front door is conveniently located in a surveillance blind spot, and while Blake is  _ pretty _ sure that’s just a coincidence, it’s certainly a welcome one.

For the Fang, at least. Blake has mixed feelings about them herself. But the current regional commander in Atlas, so she heard, never liked Adam. So she can use that, at least. And she’s almost certain they  _ will _ be open to helping Vox.

The issue, then, is how Eudico knew she had a connection with the White Fang. So she asks, before they knock on the door.

“Honestly?” Eudico shrugs. “It was a guess. Heard your last name, thought about it, went  _ huh, that sounds familiar, _ and then I put two and two together. Didn’t think you’d have current intel, but it was a good place to start.”

“It’s not…  _ exactly _ , current,” Blake says with a frown. “After my parents left, I mostly operated out of the Vale chapter. And then I left, and now, here I am.”

Eudico nods thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind me asking, why  _ did _ you—”

Blake knocks on the door. It opens almost immediately, revealing a dark-skinned young man in a white dress shirt and dark slacks. More concerningly, he’s very obviously human.

“We’re closed, been for years, go get your dust somewhere else,” he mutters, crossing his arms and glaring pointedly at Eudico. “Try the SDC, if they’re open this early.”

“Right, sorry, we must have had the wrong address,” Blake stammers, even though she  _ knows _ this is the right address. Was the right address. It had been two years ago, but a lot can happen in two years. A lot  _ has _ happened in two years. “How long has your shop been closed for?”

The guy’s gaze shifts to her, lingers a bit. “Not my shop. My dad’s. Years. Why does it matter?”

_ Coal Dust, _ says the sign above the door. And, suddenly, it clicks. The guy Weiss and Yang had fought in the doubles round, with his partner on rollerblades. His name was…  _ something _ Coal. It’s been a long time. It hasn’t been that long.

“Flynt?” Blake asks after a moment, and his eyes go wide. He looks at her a bit more closely, and she knows he’s imagining a bow instead of kitty ears.

“Blake?” He says, hesitantly, and gets a nod. “Damn. And here I thought Neon was trying to mess with me. What’re you doing in Mantle?”

“It’s…” Blake winces. “A  _ long _ story.”

“You two know each other?” Eudico asks, and Flynt’s gaze shifts to her.

“And who’s this?”

“Also a long story,” Blake says, and racks her mind for the code words. Which she probably should have started with, in retrospect. “Hey, um, does the phrase ‘a silent fury no torment could tame’ mean anything to you?”

Flynt freezes for a moment. “You’re…” Then the small smile returns. “Well, Neon’s going to be happy you’re here. Particularly because she just won two longstanding bets we had going. Come on in.”

* * *

“Hearts, Lancers,  _ Mao _ ,” Weiss says triumphantly. Her final card was an ace of hearts, not that the Law of Aces currently matters since she just won, and there’s only two players anyway. She looks at Yang meaningfully, daring her to object. 

Yang sighs and sets down her final two cards. She slides them over to Weiss, who moves to shuffle them into the deck. Then she goes for the discard pile, and shuffles them in too.

“You come up with a new law yet?” Yang asks.

Weiss shakes her head. “Not yet. I’ll figure one out in a moment. How do you come up with yours so fast?”

Yang pulls out her scroll, navigates to a notepad app, and shows the screen to Weiss. “Dad and Mom and Uncle Qrow used to play all the time. Before Mom… yeah. They all, collectively, decided that I was too young to play and therefore I was a great person to bounce law ideas off of. And that I’d never remember them.”

“You remembered them,” Weiss observes. She starts to read, but Yang yanks the scroll back out of the way before she can get anything more than  _ Law of Crazy Eights _ .

“I took notes.  _ My _ notes. Take your own.”

“Who else am I going to play with? Whitley?” Weiss scoffs. “Please. Is there really nothing I can do to get you to show me those? You can take out the names if you want! Or use completely different names!”

“Where’s the fun in that? Or… alright, hey. Tell you what. I’ll take out the names and let you read my notes, on  _ one _ condition.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” Weiss narrows her eyes skeptically. “What’s your condition?”

Yang beams. She holds out a hand for Weiss to take, and her grin only grows when Weiss takes it. She pulls her in hard. Too hard,  _ shit! _

With a muffled  _ crash _ , they both fall off the bed, and suddenly Weiss is on top of Yang, who doesn’t look remotely bothered by this turn of events. She leans up, so close Weiss can feel her breathing, and whispers, “I want you to—”

Something taps at the window. Which would ordinarily be a tree or something, except that there’s no trees near the window. There’s  _ nothing _ normally near her window, which is why Weiss scrambles off Yang and helps her up, and they both turn to face the window.

As it turns out, it’s some _ one _ tapping at the window. He’s only halfway in view, hanging on to something just out of sight and attempting to knock again. The red cape flapping in the wind makes it obvious who this is, even before Qrow’s face comes into view. He waves with his free hand, mouths the words  _ a little help here? _

Weiss sighs, and goes to unlatch the window. She pushes one of the panes on the other side of the window outward on its hinges, squints at Qrow, and says, “You’ll get in faster by flying.”

“Fine.” In the blink of an eye, Qrow is a crow who flies into the room and perches on the back of a wooden armchair. In another, he’s sitting in it, wincing. “You really need some better chairs in here, Ice Princess, these are shit.”

“Uncle Qrow!” Yang exclaims, and promptly rushes him with a hug.

Weiss waves from behind her, and tries unsuccessfully to hide her grin. “What brings you here, Uncle Qrow?”

He surprisingly doesn’t comment on that last bit, just looks at her and looks a little happier. “Well, I  _ wanted _ to break you out, but it’s been too long since I carried  _ one _ person with me as a bird, and I’m not the only one who wants Jacques Schnee’s head now.”

“He’s not a Schnee,” Weiss says.

“Of course not. Tell you what, I’ll call him Jackass?”

Yang audibly snorts at that one. “I’m calling him that to his face next time he tries to talk to us.”

“About that.” Suddenly Qrow is very, very serious again. “Listen, you two.  _ Technically _ I’m not supposed to be here, so either act surprised when you get broken out or say a little birdie told you. But you’re getting broken out soon. Just gonna take a little longer to do it legally.”

“Nothing about this is legal.”

“Yeah.” Qrow sighs. “The problem is proving that  _ without _ tipping Jackass off, otherwise… anything could happen to you.”

“What happens if he finds out?” Weiss asks. She doesn’t sound scared, because she’s not scared. Not at all. Nope.

Qrow raises an eyebrow and says, “I won’t say that won’t happen, because it easily could if we fuck up.” His hand goes to his belt briefly, before finding nothing and dropping to his side. “If that happens, all bets are off. You text me or Winter immediately, do whatever it takes to stay safe until we get here. No heroics, no daring escapes on your own,  _ definitely _ not without your weapons. Got it?”

“Got it,” Weiss says. Her gaze flicks to his side briefly, to the spot he’d almost grabbed at. There’s nothing there. Something’s not right about that, and she can’t quite tell what.

Yang, however, takes one look at it and says, “Your flask. It’s missing.”

“Yeah.” Qrow grins wearily. “I quit.”

_ “Fuck,” _ Yang says quite emphatically.

“About time, yeah, I know, now shut up.” Qrow clears his throat. His gaze sweeps the room. “Hey, were you kids playing Mao? Couldn’t tell what game it was from outside, but if you weren’t, Yang, you need to get on that.”

“We’re playing Mao,” Yang confirms. “In between rounds currently. I was waiting for Weiss to kiss me.”

Through no fault of her own, Weiss immediately turns a bright red. “W-what?”

Did she fucking  _ stutter? _ Shit. That wasn’t what Yang meant. Was it?

Qrow takes one look at the two of them and bursts out laughing. “Looks like you take after your mom in  _ all _ the good ways, huh.”

“Dunno.” Yang shrugs carelessly. “But we’re pretending to be girlfriends to piss off Jackass. Have to practice, you know. Otherwise it wouldn’t be convincing.” She throws Weiss a wink.

“Right,” Weiss manages. Her face is still red. “I knew you meant that.”

Thinly veiled skepticism from Qrow, before he shrugs. “You know what? Okay. Hey, you mind if I join you for a round? I won’t be missed for another hour, and the Academy isn’t far from here. Not as the crow flies, anyway.”

So that’s how Weiss winds up playing a round of Mao with Yang’s uncle and… Yang. Who keeps playing like nothing happened, and maybe nothing did! Maybe she’s reading into this too much! Yang likes Blake, after all. And Blake’s pretty cute too, they’ll be good for each other.

Qrow nearly wins the round three times, only to be defeated by the unreasonable amount of laws Yang and Weiss have accumulated over the past few days. In the end, Weiss wins this round too. 

Maybe, if she hadn’t been so distracted herself, she could have noticed why.

* * *

Flynt leads them through the cluttered former storefront, around empty boxes and crates galore, to a rather inconspicuous door in the back. He opens it, calls, “We’ve got company,” and ushers Blake and Eudico in.

There’s four people sitting around the table. The closest looks a lot like Flynt, if Flynt was Uncle Qrow’s age, had gold eyes and a somewhat lighter complexion, and wore a yellow-rimmed fedora with the faint outline of a crown etched into the band. Blake doesn’t recognize the woman with spiked up white hair, bear ears, and an eyepatch, nor the pink-haired woman with cat ears. The furthest from the entrance, however, is an entirely different story.

Neon stands up, tail flicking excitedly behind her, and shouts at Flynt, “I  _ told you! _ ” 

Instead of her pigtails, she sports two small hair buns, and a more Solitas-appropriate yet no less flashy outfit. And she looks positively  _ thrilled _ to see Blake.

“You sure did,” Flynt says wearily. He gestures with introductions. “Mom, Dad, Cressa, this is Blake Belladonna and—uh...”

“Eudico Bruin,” says the woman with white bear ears, standing up as well but looking significantly less friendly than Neon. “What are you doing here?”

This time it’s Blake’s turn to go, “You know each other?”

“Knew,” Eudico says helplessly. “Cressa, I thought you left Mantle after… you know.”

“Obviously not,” Cressa replies. “Someone had to fight back against the SDC. Probably would have still had my eye if I did leave, but as you can see, I didn’t, and don’t. What is someone like  _ you _ , someone who is complacent in the face of their oppression, doing  _ here? _ ”

“Not anymore,” Eudico says. “That’s why we’re here. Vox Faunus is back.”

Cressa and the other two people in the room—Blake would assume Flynt’s dad and Neon’s mom, but Flynt had referred to  _ both _ of them as parents, interesting—look between each other in confusion.

“It’s  _ what,” _ asks the woman that looks a little like Neon with blue eyes and cat ears. 

“Oh  _ shit, _ right, meant to mention that earlier, sorry, forgot,” Neon supplies. “Flynt and I were watching the news earlier when you were, um. Out. All the channels on the TV gave way to some weird image of Jackass Schnee with donkey ears. Said something about that Vox thing?”

“Vox is back,” Flynt’s dad says slowly, “and somehow  _ you’re _ a part of it?”

“They’d never suspect me, would they?” Eudico says a tad cheekily. “But yeah. That’s why we’re here. Vox sent us to try and connect with the White Fang, Blake here said this was a safehouse.”

“Well, she’s right on that much,” Cressa says wryly. “Although I’d heard you left.”

“Adam,” Blake says simply. Her ears go back as she says the name.

“Why am I not surprised?” Cressa shakes her head. “We haven’t been able to get much news since the embargo began, but I heard of his involvement in the Fall of Beacon.  _ Please _ tell me Sienna’s dealt with him by now. It’s what he deserves.”

“Adam’s dead. Sienna…” Blake sighs, looks away. “He led a coup.”

Cressa’s remaining eye goes wide. Neon’s mom’s ears go flat against her head. Flynt’s dad’s jaw drops. Neon and Flynt themselves exchange shocked glances. Even Eudico looks stunned.

“Sienna Khan is…” Neon’s mom covers her mouth with a hand. “Oh,  _ gods _ .”

“She should have known not to trust him,” Cressa mutters, a tad bitterly. “There’s a reason I never wanted him in the Atlas chapter of the Fang. There’s such a thing as  _ too much _ and he never understood that.”

“Agreed.” Blake sounds even more bitter. “I… I’m sorry. I wish you’d heard sooner. But he’s dead. In the meantime, my—Ghira Belladonna is picking up the pieces. 

“Glad to hear he’s back, at least.”

“Hold on,” Eudico interjects. “Cressa. Are  _ you _ the regional leader of the White Fang?”

“No, obviously it’s Ray or Lonee here.” Cressa smiles slightly. “It’s me. Are you surprised?”

“No more surprised than you were to hear I’m with Vox.”

“Fair enough.” Cressa sits down again. Flynt goes to pull up some more chairs, there’s a stack of dusty ones in the corner. “I have a feeling I know what you’re here  _ for _ , but let’s finish up introductions first. Ray Coal—”

Flynt’s dad tips his hat respectfully. “I see you’ve already met the kids.”

“—and Lonee Katt.”

Neon’s mom waves cheerfully. “Vytal Festival, I’m guessing?”

“Doubles round,” Blake supplies. “My teammates Weiss and Yang fought them.”

“You were pretty sweet,” Neon agrees. “Even if it was a little  _ too _ much fun to mess around with your girlfriend.”

And that’s when Blake starts internally screaming.

“Um. Who are you—what?”

“Blonde, little top-heavy but not in a bad way, way  _ way _ too easy to piss off…?”

“Yang. She’s not my… I’m not sure where she is. Or where Weiss is. Or where a lot of our friends are.”

Never mind that Blake certainly wouldn’t  _ mind _ dating Yang, or Weiss, or hell, Ruby’s cute too. But now is definitely not the time for that. Not even close. At least she  _ knows _ where Ruby is, and she’s… relatively safe.

“Anyway,” Cressa clears her throat as Blake, Eudico, and Flynt take seats. “Neon Katt, Flynt Coal, current students at Atlas Academy as part of Team FNKI and invaluable help in staying one step ahead of the authorities.”

“Hiya!” Neon says cheekily.

Flynt just waves wordlessly, leans back in his chair. “So, is anybody going to tell us what Vox is, why it’s so important, and what it has to do with that weird thing on TV? Feelin’ just a  _ bit _ out of the loop here.”

* * *

Pietro’s workshop is a  _ mess. _ Oscar has to step over a partially rebuilt weapon of some sort just to get in the door, and there must be dozens more scattered across every conceivable surface, all in various states of disrepair. Pietro clearly knows his stuff, judging from the upgrades he gave Jaune and Ren’s weapons, but he seems to have a terrible case of must-help-everyone-all-at-once. 

“Hello?” Oscar tentatively calls. Ironwood sent him here and said there was news, but he doesn’t immediately see anyone around. 

Pietro’s legged chair walks out from another room. “Oscar!” he exclaims. “It’s so good you’re here. I have something to show you.” He beckons, and Oscar follows back into the second workspace. 

“Oscar, meet Dr Archibald Perintol.” Pietro gestures to introduce a tall dark-skinned man with a heavily lined face and short silver hair. Oscar shakes his hand, while Pietro moves to a covered object in the middle of the room. “And,” he says dramatically, pulling the sheet off with a flourish, “the robot body you asked for!”

“It’s done already?” Oscar can hardly believe it. He’d heard Pietro had most of the pieces already, but to put them all together this quickly? 

“So it is,” Perintol says with a nod. “I know I probably shouldn’t ask, but what do you need it for?”

Pietro answers first. “Through means I’m not quite allowed to discuss – sorry – young Oscar here has acquired two souls. He’d like the other one out.”

“And this can be someplace for it to go.” Perintol nods again. “Makes sense to me… at least, as much as that situation can possibly make sense.”

“Time is of the essence here, so I thank you again, Archie. Coming out of retirement just for this.”

Perintol smiles. “I may be old, but my mind’s still sharp and fingers deft. Those little wires were no match. It’s been too long, I needed the challenge.”

Perintol wanders over to one of Pietro’s several desks to gaze at a framed picture that rests there. Pietro doesn’t seem to notice at first, instead engaging Oscar again. “So what do you think?”

“It looks… well, to be honest, it kind of looks more fit for me than for him. This is Penny’s first body, isn’t it?”

“Mostly. I remade the face and hair based on pictures, slimmed down the front chassis a little, but you’re right, she – he – the body – still looks like a kid. I also made all the green bits darker and swapped out the emblems.” Pietro gestures to the stripes of light down each leg and the small gear symbols at the body’s ankles. “The new core design is a bit bulkier than the old ones, but that’s okay. The whole sword compartment in the back can be repurposed since he won’t need it.”

Oscar walks around to look at it from all angles. “It certainly looks impressive. Thank you again, Doctor. Both of you.”

Perintol leans back against the desk, now holding the photo in his hands. “It’s no trouble,” he says. “Pietro and I used to work together, back in the day. If I may ask, young man, how old are you now?”

“Um, fifteen,” Oscar stammers. 

Perintol laughs. “It’s been longer than that just since this photo was taken.” He flips it around to show five people in white lab coats, with himself on the far left and a much younger Pietro seated in the center. Perintol’s hair was gray even then. 

“Oh, I know, I’m ancient,” he continues. “Would you believe, I was born in the Kingdom of Mantle? Don’t remember it of course, the Great War ended when I was two, but I was. I was on this chunk of rock when it was lifted into the sky. At the time, I thought it was magic. Still kind of do, sometimes, even after growing up watching Amity get built.” 

Perintol shakes his head. “I saw how much gravity dust went into making that colosseum fly. Atlas is hundreds of times its size. Where did they get the resources so soon after the war? And why hide it all, instead of sticking crystals out the bottom like they did with Amity?”

Suddenly Oscar looks extremely uncomfortable, but he can’t say anything. 

“Hand me that picture, would you?” Pietro quickly shifts the subject back to old work memories. Anything to keep from having to explain magic to this old scientist. “I remember this. Taken after we built the first aura transfer device. Archibald Perintol, Sigor Savah, myself, Rosie Palladino, and Arthur Watts. Four of the greatest minds in Atlas, all working together!”

Perintol chuckles. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short like that, old friend!”

“So…” Oscar glances back and forth between the two. “You all built the aura machines? The thing that can get him out of my head, and into there?”

“Ages ago now, but yes. Our greatest accomplishment, and our last together.” Pietro places the photo back on his desk. “After that, we all got asked to build ‘the next big leap in technology’ – though aura transference is quite a leap itself. It was all meant for the military this time. How to better defend Atlas and Mantle, and all that.”

“Rosie went for mech suits, Sigor for robotic companions each linked to a single soldier. Arthur tried to build on our previous work to enhance the auras of human huntsmen past their natural limits. And the two of us both had the idea of synthetic huntsmen and huntresses. Robots with aura.”

“You mean like Penny,” Oscar says. 

“That’s right. My daughter is the success story of all that. The new Protector of Mantle.”

“Much better than my idea,” Perintol comments. “I wanted to mass produce them, make a whole army of Sentients, and they could carve out new territory in the tundra without risking a single life.”

“Which was nonsense, of course,” Pietro cuts in. “Who’s to say humans and faunus are the only lives that matter? If a robot has an aura, that means it has a soul, it’s a person too!”

“And I see that now. If things had gone my way back then, someday we’d have had a Sentient uprising on our hands. And we’d have deserved it.”

“Not that mass-producing Pennies would be viable anyway.” Pietro’s bright green aura flickers. 

“So what happened?” Oscar asks. “Dr Polendina built the first, and that was it?”

“It took years to even get close to bringing Penny to life. We worked separately but compared notes. Archie thought adaptability was the key to sentience. Teach a robot to adapt to any situation you put it in, and consciousness will result as a natural consequence.”

“Meanwhile,” Perintol says, “Pietro here thought emotion was the key. Teach a robot to feel, and you’ll find you accidentally invented consciousness along the way. The top-down approach to my bottom-up. And the question’s still not really settled, because he cheated.”

Pietro laughs. “I did not! Cheating would be turning myself into a robot and calling it done. I just took a shortcut, that’s all. A partial aura, just what I could spare without losing myself in the process, that’s what I gave Penny. I still maintain it’s the combination of that and her programming that made her alive.”

“If you say so.” Perintol turns back to Oscar. “I’m sorry, you didn’t come here for a history lesson, did you?”

“No, no, it’s interesting,” Oscar says. “I never thought I’d get to meet people who worked on cutting-edge Atlas tech like this. What happened with the rest of your group?”

“Dr Savah’s project fizzled out and he went to help Dr Palladino with her idea. That eventually became the Paladins you see today, though they had their share of setbacks. I’m sure you can guess where the name comes from. And Dr Watts, well, he…” Pietro frowns. 

“Watts’s research was going well, so he told us,” Perintol continues for him. “But after Penny was completed, he got discouraged, and angry with both us and the General. I handed over all my notes to Pietro and retired, and Arthur went to join the Paladin team. He died in an accident not long after that, so no one is really sure what results he got on his aura enhancement efforts, if any.”

Pietro suddenly looks thoughtful. “The Paladin incident, yes… Such a tragedy. Didn’t Vox Faunus get blamed for that? I always knew it wasn’t them, but I had no proof. No one would listen when I wasn’t part of the Paladin team anyway. Anyway, I heard that group made a comeback just the other day. I never realized any of them were still around.”

“Vox Faunus?” Oscar repeats. “Who are they?”

“You really  _ do _ want a history lesson,” Perintol observes. “The thing nobody tells you about getting old is that you suddenly gain a burning desire to talk about the good old days. Not that I was any different in my youth, of course, but people are more likely to listen when you have age and respectability on your side.”

Vox Faunus, Oscar realizes about three-quarters through Perintol’s lengthy,  _ lengthy _ explanation frequently side-tracked with thinly veiled insults in the direction of one Jacques Schnee, sounds a lot like the White Fang. And he isn’t entirely sure how he feels about that.

* * *

May and Lis see them out, in the end. Partially because Robyn had wanted to get advice on how to make the back lock harder to pick, and who better to ask than a master thief? So, here the group is, standing on the porch in that awkward way when nobody’s really sure what to say.

Ruby eventually shrugs, goes, “Seeya!” In typical Ruby fashion, she speeds off, and Nora goes to follow her. Before she turns the corner, she stops, glances back.

Lis has already gone back inside. May hasn’t.

“So, May,” Ticker says suddenly. “Didn’t want to say anything earlier in case you’re not out, but, uh… Me too.” 

“Out to them,” May says with a nod back at the house, “and, unfortunately, to my birth family.”

Ticker makes a face. “Know how that goes, love. Glad you’ve got support. Changes a  _ lot _ , let me tell you. Hey, Sparky!”

Nora startles as both sets of eyes go to her. “Um. Yeah?”

“One of us should probably catch up with Red. You want to or should I?”

“I’ll go find her,” Nora says. She turns to leave, but stops again. “Um. If you don’t mind…”

“Sparky, I can spot a cis a mile away, and darling, you ain’t it. We can talk when we get back to Eudi’s.”

Nora nods and, turning again, sprints off after Ruby. 

“Well, hope we’ll be seeing you around,” Ticker offers. “Tell Robyn good luck in the election.” 

May smiles. “I will. It was good to meet you.” She turns to go back inside, and Ticker hurries to catch up with the rest of her group. 

A curious eye watches her go. High above, a lone man rests on the edge of a rooftop, staring down at the Happy Huntresses’ guests for just a moment before returning his attention to the house itself. 

The curtains are pulled open again. He doesn’t know why they were shut to begin with, unless it had something to do with that woman who vanished into thin air just before arriving on the doorstep. She’d reappeared alongside the others a block away and left with them. Who was she anyway? She didn’t look like much. 

Wait, was that a pun? He hates puns.  _ She _ made puns. The intruder. The thief. The one who’d dropped a motorcycle into their fight. He hates that yellow-haired girl more than almost anything else, though the cold of Atlas comes close. And this sword that’s not his. And the fact that he’s… 

No. Can’t start thinking about  _ that _ again, not now. Not while  _ Margulis _ is right there in the window, with no idea she’s being watched. Standing there in her stupid oversized mask, with the one she dares call her girlfriend leaning on her shoulder. 

He hates Margulis so much. She should have been dead a long time ago. 

On a different roof nearby, a hooded woman feels exactly the same way about him. That man should be dead by now, and every day he’s not, he’s causing more problems for innocent people like Blake. 

Thankfully, Blake and her should-be-girlfriend aren’t here right now. She contemplates leaving — after all, Margulis is human and so is her pursuer, and that  _ should _ make them both none of her business — but this situation is far too similar, and if she has to justify it she can say that he’ll come after Blake next. He would, after what she and Yang did to his partner. 

So Sienna Khan does not leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious as to how Sienna is alive? Look no further than [Burnt Sienna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600644/chapters/56632975), a prequel being written alongside this fic that looks at the semblance Amity Arena gave Sienna Khan and proceeds to throw it out the window. There's a reason I said that this AU _mostly_ follows canon up to the beginning of Volume 7, and Burnt Sienna is it. Hope ya enjoyed the chapter, I've included some fun facts/trivia(?) below for your enjoyment.
> 
> The fishing rod incident is not in fact the first interaction Qrow and Clover had with each other. You'll get more elaboration on that... sooner or later. ;)
> 
> Lis Magnolia is a fusion of the canonical characters of the Lotus and Margulis from Warframe, although if you're familiar with the [Symbiosis Trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1316900) of Warframe fics, Lis and Robyn could easily be seen as Margulis and Breazeal. (If you're not familiar with it, but you like Warframe, _please_ give them a read they're amazing.) 
> 
> Speaking of Lis and Robyn, there _is_ another prequel involving them and the other Happy Huntresses coming up sometime soon to an AO3 near you!
> 
> Dr. Simon Irmis is, of course, a RWBY version of Cephalon Simaris from Warframe. He's a lot easier to get along with here. His semblance is seeing the strengths and weaknesses of others, which comes in handy in a fight and comes even more in handy as a teacher. (I'll leave it up to you to decide whether he saw Qrow's semblance as a strength or a weakness.)
> 
> RWBY-only folks: yes, what Oscar did is a canonical thing in Warframe, somewhat. It's called Sanctuary Onslaught, and Simaris frequently comments that he is absolutely not under any means a sadist. Warframe players in the comments can confirm.
> 
> Fratterkies are a kind of Grimm I made up for Fair Game week, and I like them too much so now they're showing up in everything I write. If you think Oscar's reaction was good, think of how Qrow probably reacted in the observation room. He probably screamed. 
> 
> Flynt and Neon, for the sake of this AU, are half-siblings. They share a dad but have different moms. Flynt's mom is dead but before she died, she, Ray Coal, and Lonee Katt may or may not have been happily all dating each other. (They totally were. In this house we like polyamory a lot.)
> 
> We're all getting way more into Freezerburn than I think anyone was expecting, I know I certainly wasn't. Pollination train is well on its way, and if you've read any of my other RWBY works you probably can tell where I'm going with Penny's crush.
> 
> Mao is awesome. Terrifying, but awesome. If I had a deck of cards and more people than just my dad in this house I'd teach him to play right now.
> 
> Lonee Katt may or may not be based off the longcat meme. You can probably guess what her semblance is.
> 
> Three of the four scientists that had been working with Pietro are based off Warframe characters. The fourth is, obviously, Watts.
> 
> Robyn is also trans.


	9. Part 1 Episode 7: Sparks Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Happy Huntresses stage an ambush, but they aren't the only ones doing the ambushing. Nora has a realization or two. Blake, Flynt, and Neon head out on a mission for the White Fang. Lis has to face demons from her past - or one in particular. And yet, not everything is as it seems...

There are many routes the military uses to transport materials to Amity. This one in particular is more commonly used than others, but normally there wouldn’t be any real guarantee that it would be used _today._ Normally, Robyn would need to wait here for hours for a supply truck that could be anywhere.

Of course, _normally_ Lis doesn’t have access to a very conveniently placed camera in General Ironwood’s office with a clear view of his desk. Whatever is going on with Amity Colosseum is evidently confidential enough that the General himself has to authorize every single piece of every single transport, down to the route it takes.

So that’s a big thank you to Little Duck, master thief, agent of Vox Faunus, and current ally of the Happy Huntresses. Makes Robyn’s life _much_ easier.

“That should do it,” Robyn calls. “On the off chance Ironwood _is_ actually doing something useful, we want to be able to move it.”

“Off chance is right,” Joanna mutters, hopping over their makeshift barricade as she does. She offers a hand to Fiona, then May, until all four huntresses stand in the shadow of the canyon wall. Honestly, why _does_ Ironwood use this route? A place like this is practically asking for an ambush. 

“Hey, you never know,” Fiona says. “It’s _possible_. Just… really, really unlikely.”

“Useful or not, we need answers,” May says firmly. “And we’re not getting them if they can just drive right through the barricade.”

“They can’t drive right through the barricade.”

“Well, they _can_. They’ll just get a flat tire and be stalled for a whole lot longer than they’d be if they were reasonable.” Robyn cracks a smile, peers out into the tundra. “Lis, how long do we have?”

_“Assuming they left when they were supposed to? Ten minutes. Eight until they’ll be able to see the barricade.”_

“And…” May frowns. “Why _wouldn’t_ they leave when they’re supposed to?”

_“Not just military. Your old friend Clover is in charge on this one—”_

“Oh come _on_ ,” Robyn mutters, “it couldn’t have been Marrow or someone else without a pokerface?”

“Marrow has a pokerface!” May protests. “Or used to, anyway.”

“His _face_ is fine,” Fiona says in turn. “His tail is what gives him away.”

“Okay, you have a point. A small one.”

Lis sends the mental equivalent of clearing her throat and continues, _“Besides Clover, there’s a couple of huntsmen I don’t recognize, and… apparently, the Protector of Mantle._ That’s _a good sign.”_

“No shit.” Robyn’s faint grin fades. “We’re out here, can’t exactly ask you to go fight Grimm currently even if that Ruby kid was right about your eyes, the so-called Protector of Mantle’s out here instead of protecting Mantle like she’s supposed to…”

 _“A few of the Ace Ops and some others are on a mission patrolling Mantle’s walls. Not that they’d_ have _to be if they bothered to_ fix _the walls, of course, but clearly Ironwood’s pet project is more important.”_

“Clearly,” Joanna echoes. “We need to get moving.”

_“She’s right. Four minutes.”_

“Then let’s go,” Robyn says.

May and Joanna exchange glances and nod. May raises a hand. It glows blue, and the bubble of her semblance grows to envelop them both, until it looks like nobody is there at all. Robyn gives them a two-fingered salute, and then she and Fiona hop the barricade again.

 _“I can see them on May’s bodycam,”_ Lis says. _“Yours too, Joanna. Get to the side, they’re coming.”_

Soon, Robyn too can see them, although it’s not exactly hard to pick out a dark truck amid a vast expanse of white. She takes a deep breath, looks to Fiona. The others are nearby, with the exception of Lis, but she doesn’t need to be nearby. She’s safer back at the house anyway.

“Alright ladies,” Robyn says firmly, “time to show them our teeth.”

She doesn’t budge, doesn’t move to uncross her arms. Her scarf flaps in the wind as she stares down the truck, and whoever’s driving it through that one-way windshield. Beside her, Fiona grips her weapon and does the same.

The truck slows, then comes to a stop a few feet in front of them. The first to hop out is, to the surprise of absolutely no one, the golden boy Clover Ebi himself. Next is a scruffy-looking man with dark hair and a red cape similar to Ruby’s, and a young man probably a couple years older than the kids from Vox that came to visit whose most distinguishing feature is _probably_ the armor. Debatable how well that armor would work out against Grimm or anything else, but good on him. Too bad he’s a military bootlicker just like everyone else in that truck.

Penny, Robyn observes, does _not_ come out of the truck. Makes sense. Wouldn’t want people to think the Protector of Mantle is shirking her duties, now, would they? Of course not.

Clover, Robyn can deal with, he’s never been a good fighter in close quarters. But the other two—she’s gonna call them five o’clock shadow and white knight for now—could be trouble. Penny _definitely_ will be trouble when she comes out. Unless she comes out as gay or something, in which case Robyn will happily congratulate her on her new identity and offer her membership with the Huntresses if Ironwood winds up being less than thrilled about that.

Unfortunately, Robyn doubts that kind of coming out will happen anytime soon, and it definitely won’t be here and now. She almost certainly _won’t_ be getting anything out of Clover, but the others with him might be more easily persuaded. Particularly if she comes across as more reasonable than he does.

“Robyn! Well, if it isn’t Mantle’s hometown heroes.” Clover’s gaze flicks to Fiona briefly, but settles back on Robyn in the blink of an eye. “Is there a reason the _two of you_ are blocking an official military transport?”

“Clover, I’m _so_ glad you’re here.” Robyn gives nothing away but a smile. “Maybe you can help me understand why this truck that’s _supposed_ to be taking construction materials to help fix Mantle’s outer wall—you know, the one that’s had a gaping hole in it for _months now_ —is instead on its way to the middle of nowhere? Are you lost?”

Through the one-way mental connection Lis has with all of them, Robyn hears her start snickering. If Robyn’s smile grows just a tiny bit, that’s none of Clover’s business.

Five o’clock shadow gives nothing away, although come to think of it he does look a little familiar. Maybe from a Vytal Festival of years past or something. White knight, on the other hand, is looking distinctly uncomfortable. Good. She can use that.

Clover, for his part, just laughs. If Robyn didn’t know better, she’d think it was genuine. “Pretty easy to get turned around out here on the tundra, everything looks the same. You know how it is. Thanks for checking up on us, though. We’ll be on our way now.”

Still smiling disarmingly, Clover turns to head back to the truck. Robyn sighs, exchanges a glance with Fiona.

“I was _hoping_ you’d play it straight with me. Even if I’m pretty sure not a single person here _is_ straight.” She raises an eyebrow and adds, “Am I wrong?”

Lis’s mental snickering turns into full-on laughter, so hard that Robyn can picture her doubled over on the couch. White knight starts to raise a hand in protest, then gets a strange, thoughtful look on his face and lowers it again. Five o’clock shadow turns slightly red and looks away from Clover, who stops and shrugs in a gesture that can be roughly translated as _okay, you got me there._

 _“Looks like you were spot on,”_ Lis manages to get out. _“Don’t even need a truth semblance to tell that much.”_

No kidding. Well, that’s better than the alternative. She files that information away for later and says, before Clover can get a word in edgewise, “What’s Ironwood doing with Amity at the old SDC mine?”

The tension in the air returns in full force with her question. Clover’s smile fades.

_“May and Joanna are in position.”_

“Oh, that?” Clover says innocently. “Just giving her an annual checkup. Got to have her ready for the next Vytal Festival, whenever it is.”

“It’s _not_ anytime soon, and you know it,” Robyn replies. “Only automated drones and a few select Atlas scientists are allowed out there. _And_ Amity’s getting invaluable resources _we_ need in Mantle to protect against Grimm. Seems like just a little bit more than a checkup.”

“You’ve been scoping it out.”

“I’ve been scoping out where the supplies Mantle so desperately needs are really going. We can’t fix the wall without these supplies. And who knows? Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this _is_ more important than the entire city of Mantle. But if I’m wrong, and this _is_ being used for a good reason? This doesn’t have to be difficult. All you have to do is tell me.”

She extends a hand, lets it glow with the neutral violet of her aura. Looks to Clover. Raises an eyebrow.

“I’m—” Clover hesitates. 

For a few moments, Robyn actually thinks he’s going to take her hand and tell the truth. Of course, it’s then, right as they’re on the verge of getting somewhere, that everything goes wrong.

 _“He’s here,”_ Lis says, and there’s an edge of panic to her voice that Robyn hasn’t heard since—well, since _Lua._ _“Ballas is here. I—I don’t know how he got here, the embargo should have—I thought maybe he was dead but he’s—”_

And then silence. Robyn’s eyes go wide. Behind the truck, May and Joanna phase into view, they and Fiona wearing similar terrified expressions.

“Airship. _Now._ We’re leaving,” Robyn orders. She looks to Clover, narrows her eyes as the others run past her. “Sorry, Clover, but the General and his secrets are suddenly not my most pressing concern anymore.”

With that, she turns and runs. Lis might not even have her helmet still, but if she does, in case she does—she whispers, “Hold on. We’re coming. Just _hold on.”_

* * *

Nora is maybe, occasionally, just a _bit_ slow on the uptake when it comes to certain things. Qrow and Raven being a _crow_ and a _raven_ is probably the most embarrassing incident, and the only one most people outside her team know about, but there’s _definitely_ more. 

This time, though? This time, she’s picked up on something important _before_ anyone else has. Something that could be important, anyway. Namely: Ticker’s first name. She almost exclusively goes by her last name, but the one time she _did_ introduce herself with her first name, it was Sal.

It _could_ be short for something like Sally. Or it could be short for… _Salem._ Although Nora really, really doubts that Ticker is _that_ Salem even if that is her name. She has an entirely different aesthetic, for one thing. Assuming the accuracy of Emerald’s illusion at Haven wasn’t another thing Ozpin lied about, modern-day Salem prefers dark clothing and is very, _very_ pale. Meanwhile, Ticker’s clothing item of choice is a dirty pink hoodie. 

Would Salem wear that? Nora’s pretty sure Salem wouldn’t wear that. Maybe she would. But… still. Her name _could_ be Salem. Maybe.

That’s why, when she’s grouped up with Ticker and a few other workers for the day in the mines, she takes the opportunity to hang back and ask.

“You said your name was Sal, right?” Nora hefts a pickaxe that would be too heavy without a boost from her semblance, and glances over to see a quick nod as Ticker grabs her own. “That wouldn’t happen to be short for something, would it?”

“Oh, it is,” Ticker agrees as they head down the path, still trailing a little behind the main group. “But I bet it’s not what you’re thinking. Take a guess.”

“Is your name… Salem?”

“That’s a new one! Most people say Sally first. But nope, neither of those. It’s short for…” Ticker sighs. _“Salmon.”_

“Salmon?” Nora repeats. “Wow. No wonder you go by Sal.”

“When I need a first name, anyway.” Ticker grins wryly. “My parents were really into the whole color thing. Course, they called me Sam. Finally said to myself, ‘you know, love, you’d be better off as a girl,’ so that’s what I did. Couldn’t afford a legal name change, so I just took a different shortening. It’s worked out well enough.”

The two of them rejoin the back of the group after that, and soon enough are sent off deeper into the mine tunnels. There’s a group of miners that clocked in earlier already working, and Nora and Ticker are supposed to join someone named Callow Tock.

Nora wonders what he’ll be like, even as his last name gets a raised eyebrow and a thoughtful look from Ticker. She wonders what he’ll be like, right up until she turns the corner and sees him. Callow Tock could be his real name, or a disguise, but it’s _definitely_ not the name she knows him by.

He’s got a new tail. Of _course_ he’s got a new tail, and this one is metal so it’s debatable if it can even be cut off again. His tail’s the only visible weapon on him, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t _have_ other weapons. He easily _could_ have other weapons, and the tail alone is, well. More than enough to fight someone. It was more than enough to make Uncle Qrow completely collapse within a day.

So the last thing Nora _should_ be doing is picking a fight, but that doesn’t stop her from balling her hands up into fists and hissing, _“You.”_

Tyrian turns. Ticker looks between them and asks, “You two know each other?”

“Wish I didn’t,” Nora mutters.

“I’m sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else,” Tyrian says innocently, even as his new tail is flicking back and forth behind him in a way that can’t possibly be interpreted as anything but threatening. “Have we met?”

“Of _course_ we’ve fucking met, _Tyrian._ ”

“I’m afraid I simply don’t know who that is, either. _My_ name is Callow, little girl, not whatever that other name was. Terence, was it? Tyrone?”

“Tyrian,” Nora corrects.

“Nora, love, he’s clearly not who you thought he was,” Ticker says at last. “Let it go, let’s get to work. Sorry to bother you.”

“Mistakes happen!” Tyrian says dismissively, almost cheerfully. It’s almost enough for Nora to believe that he is who he says he is, and he’s not the Tyrian that tried to kidnap Ruby.

Nora’s only sure when, at the end of the day, Ticker says, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your tail? That must have been painful.”

“Oh, it _was._ Someone cut it off. A little birdie told me—” His gaze lingers on Nora just a little too long to be an accident. “—that I might find her here.”

His tail hangs in the air behind him, not quite poised to strike but not far from it. It's a clear threat: _fight me here, and you won't walk away._ But the way he holds it back just a little, leaving himself the slightest bit open, sends a different message: _please, try it._

Nora’s impulsive, but not stupid. She isn’t going to try anything yet, and not without Magnhild. But she _is_ going to warn Ruby and Blake, and then they’ll warn the rest of Vox together.

* * *

Of all the words Blake could use to describe Team FNKI, _stealthy_ is one she never would have seen coming. Particularly not for someone whose style could be summed up as really, really bright colors and who, the one time Blake had really seen her fight, left a glowing rainbow trail in her wake.

Admittedly, the last thing she ever expected after _leaving_ the Fang was to be back on a mission with them. But this is different. Adam’s dead, and with him is the White Fang that Blake left. Cressa’s group clearly understands that not all humans are SDC levels of horribly racist, but also understands that sometimes, violence is necessary.

In most cases, it’s avoidable. And anyway, while Blake’s willing to bet Neon and Flynt both could fight if it came down to it, she doubts either of them want to.

She doesn’t want to either. And, if everything goes according to plan, they won’t have to.

“We’re in position to get inside,” Flynt says to his scroll. “You feel like explainin’ the plan again, or…?”

 _“Not particularly,”_ Cressa replies with a visible roll of her one eye. _“You know what to do. Get inside, wait for our signal.”_

“Signal is _really_ putting it lightly.” Neon leans in front of Flynt, although only the very tip of her hair is visible through the scroll camera. “We got this.”

 _“Remember, whatever you do, do_ not _get caught.”_

“Yep, yep, can’t afford to get recognized, we _know_.”

Neon waves as Flynt ends the call. He turns to Blake with a slightly exasperated smile. “She means well. Either of us getting caught would be… _really_ bad.”

That would be why neither of them are in their regular gear at the moment. Neon is, shockingly, not on her rollerblades. Flynt’s left his fedora and essentially every trace of color on him behind in favor of a dark hoodie and knitted ski mask. Neon’s done the same except ditched her rainbow-striped sweatpants for a much less conspicuous pair.

And Blake… well, it might be _good,_ actually, if she’s spotted. Word could theoretically get back to her friends. In practice, the SDC wouldn’t let it get that far, so she’s borrowed a much more comfortable mask than the Fang-issued ones she remembers and another pullover hoodie.

Their weapons could get recognized, particularly Flynt’s, which is why his is safely collapsed into a much less recognizable form. Neon’s is fine as long as she doesn’t light it up, as is Blake’s, hers is just… still a little bit on the broken side. And also currently missing.

But that’s fine. She's got a knife.

“Yeah,” Blake agrees. 

She eyes the perimeter wall speculatively. It’s too tall for one person to easily get over, but if someone gives the first two people a boost, they can probably pull the last of their group up after them. Flynt looks like the physically strongest.

“Do you think…?” Blake gestures to the wall. 

“You’re readin’ my mind,” Flynt says in response. “Ladies first. Neon?”

Blake shrugs and steps back for Neon. “What’s on the other side?”

“Security drones and a couple of company goons,” Neon says as Flynt takes a knee. “Probably on the goons, definitely on the drones. I’ll let ya know!”

In one quick movement, Flynt boosts her up. Neon grabs for the wall, tugs herself up, and stands atop it. She peers over. Her tail flicks back and forth as she scans the area.

“I’m gonna get a closer look,” Neon announces. “Be right back, I’ll be careful!”

Careful’s another word Blake would have never thought to use for Neon in a million years, and yet here they are.

“You know,” Flynt says as Neon scampers off atop the wall, “you didn’t actually have the most recent passphrase.”

“Would have been surprised if I did.” Blake grins wryly. “Haven’t been… _really_ involved with the Fang for a couple of years now, and then there’s been the whole closed borders thing.”

“Figured. Would be pretty hard to keep up with schoolwork and keep up with the Vale chapter, back before… well. You know.” Flynt winces. “Heard you tellin’ Cressa about Haven Academy. Glad it didn’t go the same way Beacon did, at least?”

Blake nods, wordlessly follows his gaze upwards. The city in the sky hangs there, suspended from nothing as it always has been. Airships flit around it like metal bees around a hive, except from the inside it’s not haphazard, it’s perfectly planned and executed.

To be fair, bees likely don’t think their hive is haphazard either. Why would they?

“You think Atlas is next,” Flynt says quietly. “Don’t you.”

Blake can’t quite bring herself to outright tell him _yes_. She stares up at Atlas a little longer before saying, “That’s why we came here. My team, JNPR, Qrow—that’s Ruby and Yang’s uncle, he’s a huntsman… Atlas isn’t perfect. Not even close. But even the likes of Jacques Schnee don’t deserve what happened to Beacon.”

Flynt raises an eyebrow. “Not even _him?_ You sure about that?”

“Actually, no, I take that back. Atlas as a whole doesn’t deserve to be taken over by Grimm, bad as it is. But I would pay to feed Jacques to a nevermore or a gryphon. And I’m sure Weiss would too.”

“How about a beowolf? More teeth, probably more painful.”

“Coast is clear,” Neon declares from atop the wall. “And hey, if we’re talking teeth, how about a manticore?”

* * *

He’s here. 

How can he be _here?_ How did he get through the Atlas border? How did he find her, in the Happy Huntresses’ safehouse? 

It’s not much of an answer, but the static covering some of her camera feeds is a hint. Margulis has virtual eyes all around the house, and every one of them is being jammed. It must be the electronics in that fucker’s metal arm, installed by the same unscrupulous engineer who built it for him in the first place. Maybe the same thing got him through border security. 

She only gets thirty seconds’ warning, while Ballas fumbles with the door. Electronic security is out, but there’s still a solid deadbolt, and that buys her enough time to warn her team. But they’re all out in the tundra, stopping a military transport. What help can they offer, from there?

Still, this is _Ballas_. He’s always been stronger than her, faster, more charismatic, more powerful in every way. She needs help. 

_“Do something. Get me out of here!”_ Margulis calls telepathically to the Happy Huntresses. 

Even with her home cameras jammed, she keeps the mask on. She can see through the front aperture, though its zoom feature isn’t working at the moment, and she needs to be able to hear incoming messages. 

“We’re coming,” Robyn’s voice comes through. “No luck with Clover. Just hold on. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

She’s barely finished when Ballas decides he’s had enough and simply punches the door down. But Margulis has her weapons in hand: two long clubs unlike the rest of the Huntresses’ crossbow-staffs, smooth and solid, burnished lavender like her and Robyn’s auras. Simple weapons, but effective, and bludgeoning isn’t their only trick. 

There’s not much room to swing in the front foyer, but a sharp forward jab catches Ballas in the shoulder as he enters. He staggers, just enough for Margulis to slip past him and back out onto the porch. Out here they’ll both have more room to fight, and the house won’t suffer for it. 

As if reinforcing her exact thought process, Ballas turns to follow her and swings his greatsword, only to have its tip stick into the wall beside the doorframe. He glares at the sword and pulls it free, and charges out again, already accepting that he failed to surprise his mark. 

“Ballas, you don’t have to do this! Why are you still chasing me?” Margulis swings with both clubs together, but Ballas blocks with the flat of his sword. “I’ve moved on. So should you!”

“You know I can’t.” 

“Can’t or _won’t._ ” Margulis practically spits at him as she leaps down the three stairs to street level. 

“You had every chance to return and make things right.” Ballas wields his oversized sword one-handed with mechanical strength, and every hit forces Margulis back a step in a slow circle. “I waited so long for the one I love to see sense. But I know now she never will, so it’s up to me to grant a merciful death.”

Something about Ballas seems off, although… it _has_ been a couple years since she last saw him, and he’s certainly grown ever more unhinged during that time. No time to think about that though, not when he’s trying to murder her. 

Margulis backs off a ways, and presses a small concealed button on the haft of each of her clubs. Halfway down their length, they split in two and slide out as parallel prongs, and a barely audible hum comes from each as internal circuits switch on. 

She braces the weapons against her forearms for stability and aims at Ballas. Twin bolts of electricity shoot out, and he stops his charge to hold up his sword in their path. The blasts fizzle as if absorbed within, barely slowing Ballas at all. 

That isn’t right. When Margulis knew him before, he’d made it a point of pride to bat away almost any projectile, physical or otherwise, and send them back at his foes. Had his fighting style changed that much in the past few years? Unless he’d… No, there was no way. That day had clearly not yet come. 

Margulis fires a few more shots at his feet, then collapses her weapons back into solid clubs and closes the distance while he’s lost his momentum. She moves her grip a little higher to balance the weight, then spins rapidly as she moves, unleashing a whirlwind of metal that pushes through all of Ballas’s blocking to throw him back against the porch steps. 

While he’s stunned and picking himself up, Margulis shifts one club into an electric prong again and hits a button just beneath the fork. She jabs the handle down the back of her shirt so the end sticks up above her head, charging electricity between its halves even as she engages Ballas again with a two-handed grip. 

Ballas kicks at her, and her slight stumble puts Margulis on the defensive as they trade blows. Not much strikes against her aura, but neither can she do much to him, and every hit clanging against his sword only makes his sly grin grow wider. 

Finally, the energy crackling to life in her other weapon is ready. A spark races up the length of the fork and discharges with just a hint of hard-light to hold it together, forming a prism that floats over Margulis’s head. Two dozen narrow beams of light shoot in all directions as the prism turns in place, sweeping arcs across the street and each creating a small explosive burst where it strikes a surface. 

Ballas stumbles back and hurries to get out of range, frantically covering himself with the flat of his blade and still blocking barely half of the beams that dance across him. Margulis rushes in close and slams her metal helmet into his face, then aims a heavy strike at his knees. 

She’s doing better than she expected, all things considered. The Ballas she remembers would have been much more of a challenge. In better times – no, more peaceful times, but not better – they had sparred together, and she’d only ever hit him this much when he was using a different weapon than he was used to. But that’s clearly his beloved Paracesis in his hands, and all the same hatred and spite in his eyes that she knew so well from her final weeks in Lua. 

A soft thud and a rattle of metal comes from behind her, and Margulis whirls around to see a chain whip narrowly miss her as it extends. A small dart flies from its tip and bursts into fire on Ballas’s chest. Margulis ducks and steps back, and takes her now-spent second club back in hand. 

“You…” Ballas growls at the newcomer. A faunus showing her cat ears openly on the streets of Mantle, with dark-striped arms as well, dressed in red and black and twirling her chain threateningly at him. “I thought I’d have to wait longer for this moment, but here you’ve delivered yourself back to me.”

The faunus only sneers at him and moves to put herself between him and Margulis. “I don’t know what your problem is with this woman, but I’m putting an end to it before you hurt her, _or_ Blake.”

“Sienna.” Ballas names his new opponent. “Just know, I will _never_ forgive you for what you did to me, and to all of us.”

“For what?” Margulis asks. “Who is this? Who did you hurt now, Ballas?”

Sienna looks quizzically at Ballas, and the spinning of her chain slows slightly. 

Ballas ignores her and glares at Margulis. “None of your concern. And _don’t_ call me that. I am not who you think I am.”

“Of course you are.” Margulis meets his stare without flinching. “Imprisoned in your own hatred, just like the Ballas I always knew.” 

“No…” Sienna waves Margulis back, recognition dawning on her face. “Adam?”

The man nods. “That _human_ switched us. He betrayed me and when I find him again, I _will_ kill him. After he gives me my own body back.” 

“When you fell off the bridge…”

“When _he_ fell. I was helping him up, and he stole my body and kicked me off!” Adam fumes with hatred for the man whose identity he was forcibly given. 

Sienna steps back and her aura flares faintly, twice in succession. But before she can throw her chain and restart the battle, Margulis calls out to Adam. 

“I always knew he’d change again someday. I’m sorry. But if you’re not Ballas, then…” Margulis’s eyes narrow behind her mask. He talks like Ballas. He acts like Ballas. Is he _really_ someone else entirely? 

“Why you?” Adam asks the question Margulis couldn’t quite say. “I’m here for Blake. But Ballas told me all about you, and you’re just the same! Running away instead of facing judgement for your actions. Hiding among huntresses and pretending to be one too. You’ll both get what you deserve, and you too, Sienna!”

Adam hefts his greatsword – or the sword that had become his – and charges in with a wide swing toward both his foes. Margulis blocks his initial assault with her clubs and then backs away to shoot energy projectiles from the side, while Sienna engages him up close instead. 

“Have no sympathy for this poor bastard,” Sienna calls back to her. “He’s taken hundreds of lives, and he won’t hesitate to kill again! He even murdered _me_ in cold blood! Unfortunately for him, I’m back with a grudge.”

This strange woman came back from the dead? Did Margulis hear that right? No time to think about that though, not when she’s pushed back into close range with her enemy. Sienna’s weapon mandates that she stay at a distance, but even that’s still a great help over leaving Margulis to fight alone.

The sound of booted feet clunking on the pavement comes from behind, but she can only hope her new ally can deal with whoever is there.

“Cease illegal weapon usage at once!” Oh. A military robot street patrol. Of course they’d show up and not care a bit who the aggressor is, only that someone dares to disturb the peace. That kind of false neutrality, preferring order over justice, is exactly the kind of thing the Happy Huntresses have been fighting against.

Within seconds, she hears clinks of a chain striking metal and then a standard-issue military rifle goes flying past her and Adam to land at the bottom of the porch steps. A crackle and thud marks the beheading of one robot, and the other gets only a single shot off before it too falls.

“We’re nearly there,” a voice comes through her mask, distorted slightly by static as the electronics in Adam’s prosthetic arm still interfere. It sounds like May. “Are you okay?”

 _“He’s not Ballas,”_ Margulis sends back telepathically. _“But just as bad. I’ve got an ally, but hurry!”_

She just has to hold on a little longer. It’s a small comfort, anyway, as Adam slips his sword between the prongs of one of her weapons and twists it out of her grasp. Assuming this really is someone new named Adam — his words with the faunus woman suggest so, but in the ways that matter he and Ballas seem to be identical.

A dart flies past and Adam blocks it, but his sword still grows a sizable chunk of ice in the middle. Margulis retreats to grab her weapon again, and shoots energy projectiles from across the street while Sienna engages him.

She doesn’t need to glance up at the sky to know the sound of an airship flying closer is her friends. Unfortunately, neither does Adam. He kicks Sienna back to land near Margulis, and red aura flares over his body. His greatsword lights up with a shimmer of the same blood red, and he swings it in a wide overhead arc.

“Get down!” Sienna yells, too late. Margulis’s first instinct is to block with her thick, durable clubs, and she’s already bracing herself for a hit — exactly the wrong thing to do against the intangible wave of Adam’s semblance.

Sienna tackles her. Margulis can feel the blast of red energy graze her shoulder as she goes down, and she distantly hears a cry of pain over the pounding in her ears and the growing roar of the airship.

“We see you. Fifteen seconds.” Robyn’s voice this time, but Margulis can’t find the mental strength to respond.

She pushes herself up halfway, leaning on one club, only to be knocked on her back again as she blocks a heavy strike of Adam’s greatsword. He looks up at the sky, back down at Margulis and her aura that’s just barely begun to flicker, and vaults over her to sprint down the street and away from the Happy Huntresses’ home.

Robyn, May, and Fiona all drop from the hovering airship, leaving Joanna to park it at the base nearby. Robyn immediately runs to Margulis’s side and cradles her shoulders as she helps her stand up. Fiona takes off after Adam, but stops at the corner when it’s clear he’s disappeared.

Margulis hobbles over, leaning on Robyn as the adrenaline fades from her body, to where May is kneeling over the fallen form of her strange new ally. Sienna lays on the pavement with a deep gash from the side of her neck all the way to her waist, eyes fluttering but still conscious. May is doing her best to staunch the bleeding, but her wound is simply too large. 

“Gods… that’s…” 

Sienna’s eyes focus on Margulis, and she kneels as well to listen to her whispered words. “Wait…” Sienna gasps for breath, and manages one last surge of energy to push out another few words. “Ten… minutes. Then…”

And she’s gone. 

The Huntresses exchange looks. “Then what?” Margulis breathes, before resting her face in her hands. She slips the mask off her head and leans into the comforting hand Robyn offers, and together she and May stand again. 

There’s nothing to be done. Margulis survived, unhurt, but at what cost? She’s traded one stalker for another, and now an innocent woman is dead. But they can’t just leave a body on the street, and everyone knows too well that the police and military won’t do a thing to help. For now they all need to rest and recover, and take things one step at a time from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be more to this chapter but we realized we'd written 12000 words and decided to split it. So... expect another update soon.


	10. Part 1 Episode 8: Armed and Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake channels her inner MacGyver with a hot glue gun and really not much else, barring the knife. Yang and Weiss have to deal with quite possibly _the_ worst family dinner either of them have ever had, and its aftermath. Lis (or Margulis) is still alive, but someone else is dead—although wasn't Sienna Khan already rumored to be dead? And Tyrian... well, he's doing something.

There are those that say that the Schnee Dust Company _don’t_ have their fingers in every pie they can get their greedy little hands on. There are those that say that the Atlesian government cares about what’s going on down in Mantle, and _doesn’t_ delegate the vast majority of operations to the SDC out of apathy and convenience.

Those people have clearly never spent more than a few minutes in Mantle, and haven’t genuinely talked to anyone who has. The SDC controls far too much of the kingdom’s infrastructure in Atlas, Mantle, and beyond. They maintain the heating grids that keep the freezing weather of Solitas at bay, for instance, although there _would_ be a reckoning if they dared to turn that off even in Mantle.

Something the SDC also controls, however, is the sprawling network of surveillance cameras across both cities. The military handles whatever is on military property, but outside that? The SDC are in charge in every way except in name.

That means, in order for Vox to do much of anything without having to constantly worry about the security cameras, the obvious if not particularly simple solution is to do away with the whole network. Going around and individually destroying every single camera would take too long. By the time they were done, the SDC would have already started installing new ones.

So: here they are, slipping in to central control while the other group (Cressa, Lonee, Ray, Ticker) causes trouble on the other side of town. A distraction’s a distraction as long as it’s effective, and between Ticker’s semblance and whatever Lonee’s is they have a plan for getting out fast when the enforcers show up.

“Dad just texted,” Neon reports, “they’re starting. Time to move.”

It’s still really, _really_ weird thinking of Neon as a Fang member. Then again, that’s probably fully embraced on Neon’s part. Who _would_ suspect the bubbly, flamboyant faunus girl to be part of a terrorist organization? Nobody would, and what people like Adam have molded the White Fang into definitely doesn’t help.

But Adam is dead, and the guards are very distracted by whatever Cressa’s group is doing on the other side of town. In the end, they quite literally walk into the main surveillance room.

Carefully, oh so carefully, Blake reaches behind a computer monitor and severs an important-looking cable, twice a few inches apart. She pulls out the actual wire part of the cable carefully, then puts back the rubber. “Who has the glue?”

“Here,” Flynt says, and tosses her one of the hot glue guns without looking.

She pastes the cable back together, filling in the now empty rubber with glue and then sticking it back in. It’s debatable if it’ll hold up to close inspection, but it’ll be a while until someone looks closely enough to see that it was severed in the first place. Glue, as it happens, is an insulator. The electric current won’t flow through it.

The display on this particular monitor has already gone out, but she does the same with a couple more wires for good measure. Then she unplugs the main plug from the nearby wall outlet, puts some glue in, and pushes it to the back of the outlet before it dries with a pen.

There’s a few main monitors, but Flynt’s leaving one active for now so they can keep an eye on the guard rotation. Blake spares him a second’s glance as he flicks through active camera feeds before, finally, stopping on one just outside the wall of this very complex.

“We got a problem,” Flynt says after a few moments. “Hey—actually, first question, we already got the camera in here. Right?”

Neon nods and swings down from the ceiling, holding the now very defunct camera upside-down by its severed wires. She swings it over her shoulder and says, “I’m keeping this, by the way. What’s the problem?”

“Blake, keep doing what you’re doing for now, this doesn’t affect us in here. Neon, c’mere a sec, does that look like who I think it is to you?”

Neon takes one look at the screen and _groans_ . “They’re _going_ to get themselves in trouble out there. Or… they would, if Schnee’s men were doing their jobs and were actually in here and watching their own cameras. For shame. Not worth the money the jackass paid them.”

“Neon, they’re outside. The guards are _also_ outside. I don’t know what they’re doing here but whatever it is, we probably should at least try to keep them out of trouble.”

“They _could_ help!”

“You know what Cressa said. I’ll head out, make sure they don’t get hurt. You coming or helping Blake?”

“Uh, speaking of Blake,” Blake says, “who are we talking about?”

In the time Flynt and Neon were talking, Blake’s dealt with a couple more computer terminals, although she could do more to each one if there’s extra time. For now, the bare minimum of rendering them useless works.

Now she has a chance to look at the single still operational one. There’s a couple of kids maybe Oscar’s age sneaking around outside. One of them says something inaudible to the other, and he jogs offscreen. The one still visible flips off the camera—and static.

“That’s Roky, the one running around outside is Boon,” Neon supplies as Flynt heads out the door. “They’ve been trying to get Cressa to let them in for… actually, probably since Vox fell.”

“They seem pretty capable,” Blake observes.

“They totally are. But they’re also kids. Might be old enough to apply to Atlas Academy soon, and I wouldn’t be at _all_ surprised if they got in, they’re both human-passing and know how to use their semblances.” Neon grins as she unscrews the top of a computer monitor and whacks the delicate electronics within with her weapon. “Pretty cool semblances, actually, Roky showed me hers once on a mission they _definitely_ weren’t helping us out on because if Cressa knows about that she’ll lose it. She doesn’t let anyone join up unless they’re at least secondary academy age. Doesn’t want kids getting hurt, or at least wants to keep them out of harm’s way.”

“Huh.”

“I’m guessing it’s different in other kingdoms? Personally, I think if someone’s willing to fight then they should fight with us, but.” Neon shrugs. “I see her point. And we’ve got things more or less under control even with a very, very, _very_ downsized Fang.”

Blake switches to another camera, the one of the hallway outside this room. Hallway’s still deserted. Once Flynt comes back, it’ll be time to go, and time to destroy the last terminal too. While, of course, still making it _look_ operational.

There are, as it happens, quite a few things you can do with a hot glue gun, a pen, and something sharp to cut with. None of which the SDC will be particularly happy about once they get in here. The _smart_ thing to do would be to just replace the computers entirely, but that’ll take time and money a _certain_ miserly racist won’t want to spend.

Ideally, Jacques could keep trying to get the system fixed without just giving up on it for months, particularly if he doesn’t realize the full extent of the damage. By the time Blake’s group leaves, it’s obvious that _something’s_ happened here, but the job looks rushed and limited in scope when it’s _really_ not.

They’ve barely made it a block from the compound when someone from above calls, “Hey!”

Blake looks up, is greeted by the very satisfied look on Lonee’s face. She waves, then turns around, and drops down from the roof. Which would be perfectly normal, of course, if her body hadn’t elongated until her arms were still holding on to the roof and her combat boots were touching the ground, and then contracted again until she was standing there, perfectly normal height again.

“Mission accomplished on our end,” Lonee says like she didn’t just do… that. Must be her semblance. Disconcerting, but useful. “How’s the old surveillance network?”

“You wouldn’t be saying that openly if you didn’t think we did it,” Neon points out cheekily, swinging the camera over her shoulder to land with a crash on the ground. Lonee gives her a look, even as her cat ears visibly perk up.

“Yes, we did it,” Flynt supplies. “They won’t be seeing much with their cameras for a while. Particularly not if we take the cameras themselves out while they’re trying to get the network back up.”

“Good to hear,” Lonee says. “Blake—I’m guessing you’ll be heading back to Eudico’s, but you’re welcome at Ray’s place anytime.”

“Particularly next weekend.”

“We’ve got some time off from Atlas, you’re welcome to join us! Bring any of your other teammates too—oooh, you said the cute red one was here, didn’t ya? Invite her too!”

“I mean, I can,” Blake says with a shrug. “Ruby’s not really much for parties. Neither am I, to be honest.”

“Not a party, not by _my_ standards anyway. Just some friends hanging out, playing video games, taking a break. It’ll be fun!”

Blake does, eventually, let herself be talked into bringing Nora for sure, and Ruby if she wants to come. Mainly because she’s not going to acknowledge the fact that Neon had called Ruby cute. Despite the fact that Ruby is very cute, it’s not like that isn’t common knowledge.

Honestly, if she were to date any of her teammates, it would probably be Ruby’s sister. But Ruby herself is still cute, and not just in the _aww, that’s adorable_ way. Blake’s just… never really thought about this before, to be honest, never even considered it.

Whatever. Now’s not the time for projecting complicated feelings for one sister onto the other.

* * *

Back when she and Ruby were much younger, back when Mom was still alive, Yang used to like eating dinner as a family. Mom’s superior cookie-baking skills had transferred over to pretty much anything involving the kitchen, and she’d been really, _really_ good at getting the timing right for whatever the various members of the Xiao Long-Rose household had wanted to eat. Of course, with Mom working as a huntress and Dad teaching at Signal, they hadn’t always all eaten together, but when they could, they did.

Yang’s got quite a few fond memories from around the dinner table, even though it does still hurt, even now, to think about Mom’s death. Dad’s been _alright_ at cooking, but he never had quite Mom’s knack for it, and usually he just made food and retreated to his room to grade papers and possibly cry.

Somehow, Yang gets the feeling that this isn’t going to be anything like that. Maybe it’s the fact that the Schnee Manor’s dining room is too bright and cold, and it’s certainly far from being lived-in at all. Maybe it’s the fact that there are two people in this room she can get along with, and then one who’s a little shit and a little snitch, and one who’s Jackass Schnee. Or… wait, wait, he’d married in, hadn’t he?

Note to self: ask Weiss what Jackass’s original last name was, and use it.

Any of those things could be contributing, but really, the real reason Yang would like nothing better than to get the fuck out is the fact that she and Weiss _can’t_ get the fuck out. Probably armed guards or something, like that Prodman asshole.

But, shitty as this is, at least Weiss isn’t going through it alone. And it’s extremely fun for Yang to see just how much she can piss off one particular deadbeat dad.

At least the food’s not terrible. Would taste a lot better anywhere but here though. Still, food’s important, they’ll need to keep their strength up for whenever they get out of here. Because they’re _going_ to get out of here. They just have to wait for Uncle Qrow and Weiss’s sister. Yang trusts Qrow, and she’ll trust Weiss’s judgment on her sister.

Weiss, for her part, is picking at her food without much interest. Yang can’t quite blame her. She can, however, nudge her foot under the table and offer her a reassuring smile from across it.

Jackass clears his throat. “No public displays of affection at the dinner table, Miss… Xiao Long, was it?”

“I’ll give up public displays of affection if you give up public displays of bigotry,” Yang replies. Her grin doesn’t fade, but there’s nothing happy in it once she turns her head in his direction. “And I don’t mean just at the dinner table.”

Weiss nearly chokes. Her brother actually _does_ choke but recovers quickly. Mom Schnee’s disinterested expression doesn’t change, but her gaze does settle on Yang.

“Bigotry, you say? I do believe you _meant_ to say sound business practices.”

Yang honestly can’t tell whether he actually, honestly believes that, or if he just doesn’t care at all. Either possibility makes her sick to her stomach, and most of all—angry. Can’t spell the word without her name, after all.

Outwardly, she’s pretty sure her eyes go red. She blinks hard, forces her semblance back down. Getting Yangry here and now won’t help anyone. “Right, because maximizing profits is more important than the well-being of your workers.”

“And what would you know about that?”

“More than _you._ ”

“I _sincerely_ doubt that. Since when did they teach business classes at a huntsman academy?”

“They do, actually,” Weiss says, still staring into her plate. Her food still looks mostly untouched, while Yang’s nearly finished hers.

“I’m sorry,” Jackass says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Would you like to contribute to the conversation, Weiss?”

She looks up. Her mouth settles into a grim line. “I _said,_ they _do_ , actually. It’s… it _was_ an elective course offered at Beacon. Business & Economics.”

“Clearly neither of you have taken it. Assuming this course _did_ exist when your foolish school still did—” Both former Beacon students at the table bristle. “—you would know that the Schnee Dust Company is one of the most profitable corporations on Remnant.”

“At what cost?”

He sighs, shakes his head in a mockery of sadness. “This is why your brother will be inheriting the company.”

All eyes go to said brother. His expression betrays nothing, but he hasn’t eaten very much of his food either. If that means anything at all.

 _Unless you step out of line too,_ is what Jackass’s look in his direction really means, and Yang suddenly feels sorry for him. But only a little, because right now he’s still a little shit, and still firmly on Jackass’s prescribed line. 

“Regarding company matters,” Whitley says after a moment, “I’m sure my dear sister and her…”

“Friend,” Jackass says firmly.

“Girlfriend,” Yang says equally firmly.

“Yang,” Whitley says finally, helplessly. “I am certain they would like to know why you called them here.”

“Wouldn’t they like to indeed,” Jackass steeples his fingers, and looks at Yang again.

“Oh, so you _didn’t_ just call us here to gloat about the fact that this is _really, really illegal?_ Oh, wait, I forgot.” Yang holds her hands up in a mock gesture of surrender, which would probably be significantly less threatening if she wasn’t still holding a fork. “Laws don’t apply to you, never mind basic morality. My bad.”

“Is _that_ what you think, Weiss? That laws don’t apply to you, because you’re ‘morally right’ and you care more about people you’ve never met than your own family?”

“There are exactly two people here I consider to be family.” Weiss levels a glare his way. “You’re _not_ one of them. The only reason I’m even still here is—”

“What? What, exactly, is the reason you haven’t left? Please, _do_ enlighten us.”

Weiss looks at Yang. There’s a hint of fear in her eyes, but only a hint, and it’s gone when she looks back at Jackass.

“Because, in case you’ve forgotten, _what_ other option do either of us have?”

“What other option _do_ you have? Who, exactly, would be willing to help the likes of you? Students who never graduated, and who are _remarkably_ insistent on going against all laws of nature.”

Yang shoves her chair back and stands up. Her eyes are _definitely_ red now. “Who would help us? General Ironwood. Go ahead, call him right now. See what he thinks when he finds out you’ve been holding us here against our will.”

She stares Jackass in the eyes just a moment longer, then adds, “And there’s nothing unnatural about _any_ of us.” She waves a finger around at the entire room, Weiss’s mom and brother included. It’s a guess on the brother, but if she’s wrong it will just make him uncomfortable, and that’s not a bad thing either. 

“Prove it.” Jackass raises an eyebrow, continues without waiting for an answer. “In this world, Miss Xiao Long, there are those who follow the rules of life, and prosper. And there are those who do not, and suffer.” Was that a glance at Mom Schnee? Does he know? 

But then he changes the subject. “I gave the faunus population of Mantle an _opportunity_ . It has always been up to them what they do with it.” Unless… No, he can’t possibly think _being a faunus_ is unnatural too? Can he? 

“You don’t honestly think you’re helping. You _can’t_ honestly think you’re helping _anyone._ ”

“Are you quite done?”

Yang clenches her fists further. “No, I’m _not_.” Her hair sparks and flickers. Not quite on fire yet, but it easily could be.

For his part, Jackass slips a hand under the table. “Would you like to reconsider that?”

Everyone else here looks… afraid. Weiss is shaking her head as subtly as possible. Willow, who has been paying close attention to a glass of wine for this entire conversation, has fully tuned in. She’s even, uncharacteristically, put the cork back in her bottle, and she has a hand resting near it that doesn’t move even when she shifts in her seat. Weiss’s brother has lost all color in his face.

“Nope. I think you forget, we’re _both_ armed and ready.” Yang pats her metal arm appreciatively. “Do your worst. Throw me out, if you feel like trying.”

“You _are_ getting on my nerves. Very well. Weiss, say goodbye to Miss Xiao Long. You won’t be seeing her again.”

“No,” Weiss says, and she’s standing too. “If you’re kicking her out, I’m going with her.”

Yang gives her right arm a shake, and the built-in gun in her forearm slides out and locks into ready position. Her hair lights up with rippling flames and she exchanges another quick glance with Weiss. 

Jacques stares them both down. “No, I don’t think you will.” Aura rises over his body, a pale pink that betrays his non-Schnee origins and causes Yang’s angry expression to break into a snicker. No wonder he doesn’t keep it active all the time. Well, that and he probably doesn’t have the training to project a shield without conscious effort. 

Very amusing aura color aside, he’s definitely been messing with something in his lap. There’s something… are those _footsteps?_ There are heavy footsteps in the hall outside, and they’re coming closer. Louder. 

“Jacques,” Willow says firmly. He still doesn’t look at her. “Jacques, _stop this._ ”

“And _why_ should I do that? This houseguest has overstayed her welcome, _and_ is now threatening me in my own home! I will have her _removed.”_

The sound of a forming glyph chimes from the end of the table, and suddenly a gleaming white knight stands behind Jacques. Before he can react, a sword is pressed into his throat. 

“You should let us both go together,” Weiss says, “because you don’t have all the power you think you do.” 

Jacques’s face is turning steadily more red with rage. “ _Weiss… You–”_

The sword pushes a little tighter. 

Willow stands up. She leans on the back of her seat for a moment to steady herself, then steps around next to Jacques and picks up the small electronic control board from his lap. She taps at it briefly, then drops it on the floor. A moment later, heavy booted footsteps can be heard departing from the dining room door. 

“Enough,” Willow says, and collapses back into her chair to take a large gulp of wine. “No fighting, please. Not in front of Whitley.”

“Aww.” The fire over Yang’s hair goes out and her eyes return to violet, but she keeps her metal arm ready. “It would be self-defense given what he’s done to us, right?” 

Yang looks to Weiss, and raises an eyebrow in a wordless question.

“We won’t leave,” Weiss says for both of them. _“Yet._ This conversation is over, Jacques. Yang?”

She circles the table, extends a hand for Yang to take. Yang does take it, and the two walk together to the door before Yang suddenly stops. 

She glances back at Jackass, still restrained by Weiss’s knight, and speaks loudly across the room to him. “So, if we’re no longer at the dinner table…” 

She turns her attention back to Weiss and kisses her in the doorway. It’s still fueled by spite… isn’t it? She certainly isn’t thinking of how much she wants to continue this even once they’re out of his sight. Of course not. Even though she can feel Weiss throwing herself into it with much more energy than they really need just for the show. 

That’s enough. Weiss knows she can’t keep steady concentration on two things at once, and her father is already thoroughly purple in the face. Willow and Whitley are both staring at them too, and even from here it’s easy to see the longing from one side and the… that’s not quite hatred, is it? Almost more like… curiosity… from Whitley. 

They leave the dining room. It’s only once they’re both well down the hall that Weiss closes her eyes, concentrates, and—Yang assumes—dispels her summoned knight.

“We can’t leave yet,” Weiss says, quieter now. No mention of what they just did. “Not just because of what Uncle Qrow said. Mom is… just as much a prisoner here as we are. We can’t leave without her.”

“Alright,” Yang says. “What about your brother?”

“Whitley?” Weiss visibly scowls as they continue down the hall, passing a suit of armor as they do. “I don’t think he’d want to come.”

* * *

Margulis had barely made it into the house before she started crying. All the latent stress of knowing Ballas was out there, plotting to kill her, or worse, take her back with him to Lua, all that worry in the back of her mind that she barely even acknowledged because it was so constant, it was all over. Except, apparently, it wasn’t. 

Ballas is dead. She knows that now. Her feeling not long ago that the mental connection to him had broken, it was real, and yet… she still isn’t safe. His body is still alive, and its new pilot is still targeting her. He knows where she lives and when she’s alone. And he won’t be inexperienced with a greatsword forever. 

But for now, she’s comfortable in Robyn’s arms, curled up on the living room sofa. Her mask rests on the table nearby along with her keyboard, now accompanied as well by a box of tissues that she’s rapidly depleting. 

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “It’s my fault he’s here. Both of him.”

“Nonsense,” Robyn immediately responds. “He’s the one who got on an airship and came to Mantle. Through a closed border, no less.”

“I’m the only reason Ballas would ever come here. Now you’re all in danger.”

“We knew he might hold a grudge, and that’s okay. We all choose to be with you, and some asshole from your past is no issue. Besides, he ought to want revenge on me just as much as you.” Robyn smiles. “I’m the one who pushed him out of that hot air balloon and probably gave him that metal arm.”

“This one wouldn’t know.” Margulis grabs another tissue and dabs at her eyes. “He’s not _really_ Ballas. How can someone else be just as horrible?” Cheeks dry for the moment, she blows her nose and drops the tissue on the floor. “You know I’d never go with him, right? You’re my family, all of you. I would never leave you for anything.”

“We know,” Robyn assured her, while May moved closer to take Margulis’s hand. “You’re as much a Happy Huntress as any of us, and nobody gets left behind.”

“He’ll be back. He wasn’t even hurt, but…”

All eyes turn to Sienna Khan, resting peacefully on the floor for lack of a proper place. “Yeah…” Joanna mutters. “About the elephant in the room…”

“She’s pretty clearly a tiger,” May supplies. 

“About the dead body in the room… Just what _are_ we going to do about her?”

“I’m more interested in why she was here,” Fiona says. “That’s the leader of the White Fang, worldwide. Why come to Atlas? And why protect a human, with her life?”

“A human who didn’t even recognize her,” Robyn adds. 

“She was following… Adam, I suppose. I got the impression she’d met him and Ballas together once before.” Margulis’s eyes narrow slightly. “She mentioned someone else too, someone Adam wanted to hurt. What was the name…” She dabbed at her eyes again and shifted to sit up without leaning on Robyn. 

“Wait – is th–” May points suddenly to where a brief flicker of orange-brown aura just passed over Sienna’s body. 

The flicker comes again and becomes a constant flare. It flicks out just as suddenly and Sienna’s eyes open, and she springs to her feet and whirls around to take in the room in all directions. 

“What the – Who are all you people?” Sienna demands. Her aura flashes once more and the chain whip is ready in her hands before anyone can even respond, but her expression softens when her gaze finds Margulis. “Oh, don’t tell me I fucking _died_ again? I hate that. Did somebody at least kill Adam too?”

Five shocked faces stare back. “Um, yeah, you…” Fiona stammers. “You were dead. You saved Lis, right when the rest of us were getting there.”

Recognition dawns on Margulis’s face. “You told me to wait ten minutes… _That’s_ what that meant. You knew you’d be back.”

“How?” Robyn asks. She gestures to the empty spot on the sofa next to Joanna. “You can sit down, if you like. Nobody wants a fight.”

“You think I’d explain to four humans how I come back from the dead?” Sienna reluctantly does wrap her chain back around her arm and sit. “Wait. You’re the one from the posters. Running for Council?”

“That’s right. Robyn Hill, representing Mantle and everyone else Atlas doesn’t give a shit about. Including the faunus. This is my band of Happy Huntresses.”

Sienna snorts. “Sounds decent enough. I just hope you’ve got practice to back up those words. Now, is that fucker dead yet or do I have to track him down again?”

“He ran,” Margulis says. “Thanks for coming to help me, but you shouldn’t go after him again. I have a recording from my mask that we can give to the police. Normally we wouldn’t count on them for much, but someone breaking into Robyn’s home so close before the election? People will notice. Besides, you know how strong he is. You knew, and you took the hit meant for me. Thank you.”

Sienna doesn’t acknowledge her thanks, and only looks away. “Then you’re still in danger,” she says softly. “And so is Blake.” She stands, but does not quite leave. 

“Blake?” May asks. She looks over to Robyn and Margulis. “Didn’t those girls who visited the other day have a friend named Blake?”

Sienna’s attention snaps to focus on her. “Belladonna?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t meet her directly. We met Ruby and Nora. Do you know…”

“That’s them. Where are they? Somebody needs to warn them that Adam is still out there.”

“The SDC mines,” Robyn says, and Sienna’s face falls. “They’re working with Vox Faunus. So are we, now, I guess.”

Sienna looks impressed. “Hmm. I always respected the old Vox. Maybe there’s hope for you humans after all.” She pulls a scroll out of her pocket as she moves to the front door, or what little of it is still connected to the hinges. “Good luck in the election,” she says, and disappears back into the streets of Mantle. 

* * *

A soft knock comes at the door. Considering that neither Whitley nor Jacques would knock, and neither of them would particularly want to pay Weiss or her not-actually-girlfriend-unfortunately a visit, this has to be her mom.

“Come in,” Weiss says, only halfway because she’s the closest to the door, and Willow does.

“What are you still doing here?” Willow asks. “You need to leave.”

“Slight issue with that,” Yang cuts in, “we don’t know where our weapons are—”

“I can help with that.”

“—and we’re sort of… waiting. For something.”

“Your uncle,” Willow says easily, and Yang proceeds to choke on thin air. “The one who can turn into a bird? Crow, was it?”

“How do you—?”

Willow takes out her own scroll. She taps at it, then turns the screen to show them both. There’s a picture on it, of… them. Of all three of them, standing in Weiss’s bedroom, exactly the way they are now. Except that Yang waves an arm experimentally, and the Yang on the screen waves her arm as well, and Weiss comes to the realization that her mom has a live video feed of her room on her scroll.

“Jacques… doesn’t know, about this. He _has_ tightened security, but he still has his blind spots. He has yet to find the camera in his own office.”

 _“That’s_ how you knew that Yang and I weren’t actually,” never mind that she really wouldn’t mind being, “girlfriends. You… how long?”

How much of her life that she thought was private wasn’t in the slightest, and not even because of Jacques?

“Since you left. The first time. I’m… sorry. I put them in every room of this house, in case I ever needed to…” Willow trails off, and puts one hand to her forehead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be the mother you deserved, Weiss. You need to leave. You _both_ need to leave, before it’s too late. He’s already…”

It hits Weiss, suddenly, what’s different about her mom. She doesn’t have her ever-present bottle.

“Where’s your…”

“He cut you off,” Yang realizes.

“He’s hard enough to deal with when you’re only halfway in touch with reality,” Willow agrees. “This is going to be… so much worse. And there’s nothing I can do. There has _never_ been much I could do.”

“You could come with us.”

“Weiss knows why I can’t. I can’t abandon Whitley to him, no matter how…” She blinks a few times and grimaces, and squints. “Please. I can send the feed from my cameras to your scrolls too, even once you’re away. There was someone who visited him… you might be able to use that. If you can get to the General, show him. Turn Jacques’s anger outward again. That’s the best I can hope for.”

Before Weiss can keep trying, before Willow can keep denying, someone’s scroll rings. Yang’s. She looks at the number, the contact she’d put it in, and fails to hide her surprise.

“That’s… Sienna,” Yang says slowly. “I’d half forgotten she gave me her number.”

“Sienna?” Weiss asks. “The only Sienna I know of is Sienna Khan. High Leader of the White Fang. And didn’t she get murdered?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Long story, I’ll explain later. Let’s see what she wants first.”

Yang picks up, puts the scroll to her ear, and says, “High Leader Khan? You’re calling me? A human?”

 _“You’re a human who wants Adam Taurus dead, so you’re a useful human,”_ comes the reply.

A chill runs down Yang’s spine. “Adam _is_ dead.”

_“No, he’s not. He’s here in Mantle. So am I, obviously.”_

Yang decides not to think too hard about how Sienna got to Mantle with the borders closed. Adam, if he really is still alive—he’s who she needs to focus on right now. So she says, “How?”

_“He and that fucker Ballas swapped bodies somehow. You stabbed the wrong guy. I mean, he deserved it too, but he wasn’t who he looked like. Now Adam’s here trying to kill this woman named Margulis. Ballas’s version of Blake. And I’m sure the real Blake will be next.”_

On second thought, that makes a disturbing amount of sense. Yang remembers far too well what Ballas had done during their fight. She remembers being violently shoved out of her body and into his, and then right back again once he’d put her body at a disadvantage. She’d _thought_ it had been Adam who betrayed his partner and kicked Ballas off the cliff.

Apparently, it was Ballas who kicked Adam down, and he’d still had _some_ aura left when he fell.

Fuck.

“Does Blake know?”

_“I can’t get through. If you can tell her…”_

“I can’t reach her either! None of us have had contact with Blake, Ruby, or Nora for a week! And Weiss and I have been taken prisoner by Jacques Schnee. We’ll be breaking out soon, but if you wanted to come up here and help…”

 _“Well, that makes what I was told more credible, unfortunately. Check the dust mines. They’ve probably had their scrolls taken. Good news is, they’re not alone in there.”_ Sienna pauses. _“As for Jacques, I make no promises. You’re perfectly capable on your own. But if it hurts him, I’ll see what I can do.”_

She hangs up. Now it’s Yang’s turn to explain, at least partially, how she knows the late High Leader of the White Fang. Fun times.

* * *

John Prodman, current enforcer captain for the Schnee Dust Company and past rejected applicant to Atlas Academy, is really, _really_ not having a good day. Or a good week, to be honest, but when the week started it hadn’t _looked_ to be remarkable in any way, good or bad. It looked like it was going to be just another week at the job.

And then Vox Faunus made their first broadcast in five years, and it was suddenly very much _not_ just another week at the job. A few days later, other enforcers are disappearing left and right. Most of his own squad has stopped reporting in. He’d _like_ to think it’s because they had the sense to stay home and not make targets of themselves.

John Prodman is many things, but an optimist has never been one of them, which is why he’s arranged to switch places with the pilot of a company plane heading to Argus. From there, it’s to Mistral, and then to Vacuo, because the last thing he wants is to get involved in this.

Except, by virtue of his current employment, he already is.

The only warning he gets is the streetlights flickering. John frowns and looks up at them. A hand drifts to his trusty machete, and he slowly draws it out.

The lights go out. John activates his semblance on instinct. He finds, after he’s turned on his weapon and therefore illuminated the dimmed streets at least a little, that his semblance may have just saved his life.

Someone’s _eyes_ are reflecting the electric glow of his blade. Yellow eyes, and a wicked metal stinger that’s poised mere inches from his throat, all frozen in a frenzied midair leap. His attacker meets his eyes, and _laughs_.

What John _should_ do, and might if he was thinking rationally, is deal with this here and now. It’s what the company would want him to do. Of course, it’s entirely possible and very likely that this is someone working for Vox Faunus, and while John can’t quite bring himself to sympathize, he doesn’t want to stand against them either. Hence the arrangements to get the fuck out.

At the moment, John is thinking none of this, because John is completely fucking terrified and proceeds to scream in his attacker’s face. Then he runs like the Void itself is after him, and doesn’t look back.

His semblance won’t have held whoever that was back there forever. It’s harder to maintain it the farther he gets from the place he activated, and his aura breaks halfway to the airport.

He doesn’t stop running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first order of business: if you head back to the prologue, we have art now of (our AU's) Ticker and Eudico! it's done by [TesseractTown, it's awesome, go send her all the love. second: it took a lot of willpower on my part not to name this chapter Ladybugs and Burning Freezers, but we're not there yet. (much to the disappointment, I suspect, of at least a few people down in the comments. y'all know who you are.) if you haven't read ](https://twitter.com/tesseracttown)[Burnt Sienna](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600644/chapters/56632975) yet, please do, it explains quite a bit about A) how and why Sienna's here and B) how she's even alive (hint: it's her semblance, Grudge is a great name but not for the one she has according to Amity Arena, we gave her a better one)
> 
> as for this story? oh yeah. it's all coming together. there'll be a few more episodes than canon V7, but I really, really doubt y'all would want us to stop at Episode 13. unless that somehow does wind up being the end, but we'll see.
> 
> bye, John Prodman! he's a bit of a meme in the Warframe community, more info on him can be found [here](https://warframe.fandom.com/wiki/John_Prodman). I'm sure we'll never see him again...


	11. Part 1 Episode 9: Play the Odds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrian has apparently been doing what Tyrian does best, and Eudico has to deal with the aftermath. Team BRNT is born. Qrow took over crossing guard duty from Jaune one (1) time and is already super done. Ticker finds a long-lost relative. The transfer from Oscar to Ozbot commences, and Vox Faunus plans a rescue mission.

“This is a  _ disaster, _ ” one of the few enforcers who reported into work today mutters, pacing back and forth in the room Eudico calls an office. 

“On that, we can agree,” Eudico says, even if she’s not at all agreeing for the reasons he probably thinks she is. “You have any idea who did it?”

“If only. The White Fang brought down our camera network late last night, but this  _ started _ before that, and the cameras picked up nothing then. That means it’s more likely Vox Faunus. At least we know the two wouldn’t deliberately work together.”

Eudico hides a smile behind her mug of coffee and asks, “Really? Why not?”

“Trust me, they never would. I was around for the old Vox, I know them too well. Same with the Fang. This killer looks opportunistic. Start with one, cameras go out, take advantage of the blackout for more. Rogue agent from either one, maybe.” He audibly groans. “Or, for all we know it’s  _ not _ some random guy, it’s The Business returned, or even Sienna Khan!”

“Or it’s someone else imitating either or both, and they’ll be caught sooner rather than later because they  _ aren’t _ either of those people.”

To tell the truth, Eudico’s all but certain she knows who’s responsible, mainly because Vox and the Fang  _ are _ in fact working together and it’s nobody from either group. That Callow man had had his aura unlocked, skirted around the topic of a semblance, and was  _ far _ too enthusiastic about the idea of murder.

Unfortunately, for all the damage he may have done in the long term, the best way to deal with him is probably to bring him in. At least that way she can keep an eye on him. Vox has killed before and Eudico is under no illusions about the necessity of it now, but Biz only went after high-value targets. Particular enforcers or bosses who were personally responsible for more brutality than usual. 

This was definitely not Biz, and if it did somehow turn out to be Sienna Khan, Eudico would have some serious questions for both Cressa and Blake. Mostly Blake, since Cressa hadn’t seemed to have known about Sienna’s death. Still, it’s probably a good thing the SDC’s goons don’t know about it either. 

“Gods, I hope you’re right. Half of my coworkers are dead, another quarter aren’t coming to work because they’re too bloody scared—”

_ Good, _ Eudico thinks.

“—and then there’s  _ Prodman.  _ We got a signed poster of him delivered to work first thing this morning, with a note saying it’s something to remember him by. Guy’s fled the kingdom, I’m sure of it.” 

“How did he even do that?” Eudico asks.

“I don’t even  _ know _ where he got it, never mind how long he’s been planning this.”

“I… meant fleeing the kingdom. Borders  _ are _ closed.”

The enforcer makes a noncommittal noise and shrugs. “Probably bribed someone, I don’t know and at this point I don’t care. If he shows his face around here again the  _ last _ thing I’ll be doing is asking him how he got out.”

“I can imagine.” Eudico drains the last of her mug and sets it down. 

The enforcer’s pacing stops suddenly as a thought occurs to him. “Void, what if it was Prodman who killed them all? He’d know where to find everyone after work. We’ve gone out for drinks together, I don’t know how many times. Just how long ago did that man snap?”

Eudico suppresses a smile. If the surviving enforcers end up inadvertently framing one of their own, that could take some pressure off of Vox. Retaliation will still be bad, but… maybe not quite as bad. She can work with that. 

First order of business: find the real culprit, or who she thinks it was. Bring him onboard and give him something more productive to do. And most importantly, put some checks on his more dangerous impulses. She has just the idea for how to do that part. 

* * *

“I have some good news, and some… well, not exactly  _ bad _ news, but we’ll get to that later.” Eudico clears her throat, reaches into her bag, and pulls out three scrolls. One has a visibly cracked screen, but when Blake picks it up and taps the power button, it flickers back to life. “Your weapons are still contraband for the moment, but the company finished processing you and authorized me to return these at least.”

For her part, Ruby goes right to the messaging app, and  _ immediately _ winces at the sheer amount of unread ones. It’s been like a week! Admittedly, it’s been like a week where she and Blake and Nora have been completely missing, but still.  _ Wow. _

“Thank you!” Nora says for the group. “Out of curiosity, when would we be legally getting our weapons back?”

Eudico visibly scowls. “Once you’ve ‘worked off your debts.’ Not anytime soon, that I can tell you. There are some… issues with getting them back early, but I’ll let you know once we’re close.”

_ “Thank _ you,” Blake says quite emphatically.

Ruby grins. “I can’t  _ wait _ to show you my Crescent Rose, it’s a scythe but it’s  _ also _ a customizable high-impact sniper rifle—”

Eudico clears her throat awkwardly. “As interesting as that sounds, and don’t get me wrong, it really does… that’s the good news. The other news is, well. How would you feel about working with a new recruit?”

“Uh… sure?” 

“What’s the problem?” Nora asks.

“He’s a bit… overenthusiastic,” Eudico says after some thinking. “I’d like the three of you to keep him in line, or at least out of  _ too _ much trouble. Correct me if I’m wrong, I never went to one myself—at the secondary huntsman academies, they assign teams of four people?”

“Oh! Yeah, they do! Nora was on Team JNPR, Blake and I were on Team RWBY!” Ruby pauses for a bit, considers this. “Yes, that got super confusing, still does now. But yeah, four initials from first or last names of people, that can be pronounced as something that could plausibly be some kind of reference to a color? It was originally  _ just _ color names, but then people ran out of colors. Or maybe someone had some really weird initials?”

“Ranger was  _ not _ a color,” Nora says suddenly, glancing up from her scroll and a half-typed out message to her teammates.

“Ranger green, and it’s more of a color than  _ junior!” _

“No, I don’t know what they’re talking about either,” Blake tells Eudico.

“That’s reassuring. Hey Sparky, Red, done yet?” Eudico gets vague noises of assent from both girls. “Good. How do you all feel about… I hope I’m doing this right, Team BRNT? B-R-N-T?”

“I’m the leader?” 

“Hell yeah you are!” Nora claps Blake on the back without looking, then goes right back to typing. Ruby’ll definitely join her soon, she’s got at least as many messages to respond to. But for now?

“I for one support Blake’s leadership in this!” Ruby cheers. Aside to Eudico, she continues, “Sorry, forgot to mention, team leader is supposed to be the first letter. That’s where the whole RNJR-JNRR debate came from. Our friend Jaune’s the leader of Team JNPR. Team BRNT sounds great though! Who are we working with? Thursby?”

“Absolutely  _ not _ , he’s still recovering from, you know. Nearly dying and all. But yeah, he’s definitely enthusiastic, just not quite like… I’ll just let you meet him.” Eudico raises her voice and says, “Mr Tock, you can come in!”

Nora’s head snaps up from her typing, eyes wide. “Wait, no—”

But the door’s already opened, and someone’s stepping inside. Ruby turns to greet him, only to be faced with someone familiar. Someone who she’d  _ happily _ never deal with again, someone she’d  _ hoped _ to never deal with again. A tall, thin man with a now-metal scorpion tail, and that horrible  _ smile _ .

_ Tyrian. _

Ruby instinctively goes for Crescent Rose, only to remember too late that it’s not there. Beside her, Blake’s done the same, and Nora’s simply balled her hands up into fists and is looking for the nearest electrical outlet.

“I’m sorry,” Tyrian says, cocking his head to the side. “Do I know you?”

“I wish I  _ didn’t!” _ Ruby glares at him.

“Not this  _ again _ .” Tyrian groans. He ignores Ruby, looks past her to Eudico. “My sincerest apologies, I keep being mistaken for  _ someone _ else who clearly was… not of the most upstanding moral character.”

“Right. You know what, I’m not going to ask.” Eudico sighs. “I don’t care what history you have, all I want to know is, can you work together?”

_ “I _ can,” Tyrian says smugly. “If these children cannot, however, I underst—”

“We can,” Ruby cuts in. “And we’re going to. You’re not getting out of our  _ sight _ .”

“On missions,” Eudico adds wearily. “I really  _ don’t _ care what you or he or anyone gets up to outside of Vox. As long as it’s not what  _ you’ve _ been doing.”

Tyrian’s grin only grows. “It got your attention, didn’t it? No need to keep going now. Unless, of course, you want me to?”

“Not now. All of you, out. I’ve got a couple hours left on the clock, I just wanted to make sure you knew who you’d be working with ahead of time.” Eudico glances between Tyrian and Ruby, and then settles for staring at a space between them both. “I’ll say it again, I don’t know what’s between the lot of you and  _ I don’t care. _ Just keep it out of Vox. Alright?”

She gets a curt nod from Ruby. Before Tyrian can open his mouth again, Ruby grabs Blake and Nora by the arms, and uses her semblance to get them  _ out _ . 

* * *

If Qrow ever has to do crossing guard duty again, it’ll be  _ far _ too soon. The actual mission title was something else, but really, it’s crossing guard duty but worse. This sort of thing, kids at Atlas Academy could do. Hell, kids at any of the  _ primary _ huntsman academies could probably do it, and they wouldn’t have the problem Qrow, and apparently Jaune as well, have had since the very first day. 

The job itself isn’t bad. Some of the kids are actually pretty cool. The issue is their  _ moms _ .

At least he got some food out of it. Might as well make the most of the third casserole this week. Or try to, anyway – between him, Jaune, Ren, and Oscar, they’ve still barely finished the first one. Maybe the Ace Ops would want it.

“So  _ that’s _ what you were up to today,” Clover says, raising an eyebrow as Qrow steps out of the transport with a casserole tucked under his arm.

“No, I just felt like making a casserole while I was in Mantle for shits and giggles.” Qrow lifts the dish to his face and sniffs it experimentally. “Okay, no, I absolutely didn’t, and what kind of a monster would put raisins in a perfectly good casserole?”

“Maybe they like raisins?”

“Who  _ likes _ raisins?”

Clover coughs awkwardly and says, “Enough about raisins, I’m sure it’s fine. Did they give it to you specifically, or to send to Jaune?”

“You know, I’m actually not sure. Also not sure I want to know. You want this? With my luck it’ll be poisoned or something. Or I’ll get food poisoning.”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.” Clover shrugs. “But sure, I’ll take it. I happen to like raisins.”

Qrow hands over the casserole. “There goes all the respect I had for you.” He’s joking. Mostly.

“You  _ had _ respect for me?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I… and you were joking too.”

Clover grins. “Why wouldn’t I be? Not  _ everyone _ in the military has no sense of humor. Honestly, pretty much everyone I’ve met does, deep down.”

“Winter Schnee?”

“Very,  _ very _ deep down, and not where her sister is concerned.” He clears his throat. “Speaking of that, I didn’t come here just to steal your casserole, the General wanted to see you. It’s about your niece and Winter’s sister. Nothing bad, don’t worry—we’re almost ready.”

“Good to hear.” Qrow glances back at the transport, then down at his scroll, and frowns. “At least we know where they are. Any news on Ruby? Blake? Nora?”

“Nothing yet. We’ll find them.”

As if on cue, his scroll buzzes. It could be anything. It could be a message from Ren or Jaune letting him know they’re back from working on Amity. It could be a message from Jimmy or Oscar about the plan to remove Oz and hopefully get him talking again, or it could be another vague threat from Winter about her sister. It could be from Yang or Weiss.

Instead, it’s from Nora. She’s with Ruby and Blake, they’re in Mantle, they’re in the _SDC_ _mines_ in Mantle but they’re otherwise fine and they’ll be trying to get their weapons back before they regroup.

He’s barely finished reading that message when another comes from Yang. Apparently Jacques let slip that some of their friends were in the mines.

Qrow glares at Clover.

“What?” Clover asks.

Wordlessly, Qrow turns the screen to face him, after he’s gone back to Nora’s message. Then he returns to Yang’s.

“I can safely say that probably wasn’t my fault.” Clover considers that further for a moment, and goes, “The message timings, I mean, not them being in the mines. Definitely not my fault on that one.  _ Or _ yours, you said yourself you’d split up.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever.” Qrow waves a hand dismissively. “The kids say they’re fine, but still, to me it’s looking like we need  _ two _ rescue missions now.”

“One at a time,” Clover says. “We’ve got just about everything we need to legally walk in Jacques Schnee’s front door and rescue Weiss and Yang. I’m sure you don’t want to leave them there longer just to prepare a simultaneous mission to the mines. And who knows–” He winks. “Maybe the disruption up top will give us an opening down below to move in.” 

Qrow sighs, and looks down at the scroll in his hand again. “Alright. But I want them out as soon as we can possibly do it. The mines… who knows what they’ve gotten into if they’re in there.”

* * *

“Bet you had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you joined up with Vox, love,” Ticker says cheerfully. 

“Well,” Callow replies, his tail flicking back and forth behind him, “I was expecting a bit more… action.”

“Don’t we all. We’ll get more soon, it’s just taking Eudi a while to set things up. I mean, it’s  _ Vox Faunus _ , I’m just glad it’s back to begin with.” She clears her throat awkwardly. “Anyway, you got a few? Your name’s Callow Tock, right?”

“No other that matters! And you are…”

“Ticker. Sal Ticker. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be related to Tock Ticker, would you?”

Callow looks thoughtful for a moment. Then his ever-present grin widens. “Oh, I most certainly would be. Croc faunus?”

“Yep.”

“She was my gran. Grandpa took me in when my parents…” He considers this for a moment. “Died. Changed my name when I was old enough to, took on hers as a last name. She disappeared before I was born.”

“Grimm?”

“Could have been anything with her. Anything at  _ all. _ ” His eyes narrow slightly as he looks at Ticker again, and he continues, “How did  _ you _ know her?”

“Oh, easy. She was my gran too. Never met her, but my folks always said she was... “ 

Actually, they’d had quite a few unflattering things to say about Grandma Tock, come to think of it. Words like  _ insane _ and  _ murderous _ came to mind. To be fair, they tended to get all up in arms about anything that didn’t fit with their worldview, which would be why Ticker doesn’t talk to them anymore, so Grandma Tock was probably a decent sort. Honestly, the only remotely positive thing she can remember about her is, she was—

“Passionate?” Ticker tries.

“As did mine! Does that make us… cousins? I’ve never had a cousin.”

She grins, maybe not  _ quite _ matching his but it comes close. “Then I guess I’ll be the first. Nice to meet you, Callow Tock, I’m Sal Ticker and I’m your cousin.”

“That…” His tail swishes behind him. “Is that short for something? Sal?”

“Oh, of course, it’s a little embarrassing actually. Any guesses?”

Callow opens his mouth to suggest something, but hesitates. Finally it comes out in a quieter voice, after the too-wide grin has left his face. “...Salem?”

“No, Salmon,” Ticker says automatically, “it’s a long,  _ long _ story.”

A few moments later, it registers that Callow hadn’t guessed any of the usual names. Actually, there’s only one person who’s guessed that particular name before: Nora. She thought she knew Callow, didn’t she? Callow denied it, but it’s such an unusual name. Certainly not one she’d expect to hear twice. Maybe Nora and Callow have a mutual acquaintance named Salem? 

And if so, then maybe the two of them really have met before? And clearly not under the best of circumstances, if that’s true. Ticker has to admit she’s curious, and maybe this can be an indirect place to start asking around. Not that she’d accuse her new cousin of anything, but… still. 

Who is Salem?

* * *

“Alright. You ready?”

Oscar’s only answer is to walk over to the door of the transference machine’s left chamber and pull it open. He turns, and slowly scans over the room and all his friends and teammates who are here to watch him – and the spaces where the rest of his friends are not. 

The General is here, hovering between Pietro and Perintol by the machine and his Ace Ops farther back. Most of them anyway; Harriet and Marrow are out on a mission at the moment. Qrow is with the three who could come, and nearby Jaune and Ren stand with each other. But Nora is still missing, along with all of Team RWBY… and two of them have been located, but it’s taking time to arrange an airtight rescue. 

“I want him out,” Oscar says. “I want to be myself again. I trust you two more than Oz,” he tells the scientists waiting ready at the controls, “so if you say this will get him out of my head, then let’s do it.” 

Ironwood lowers his gaze and shakes his head. “This isn’t how I ever thought I’d be meeting Ozpin again…” 

“It’s for the best,” Qrow says. “You know what he does to his hosts. Let the poor kid have his own life.”

“And,” Ren speaks up, “if he’s alone in his new body, maybe we can talk to him again. If there’s no one else to hide behind…”

“Still no guarantee of anything useful,” Jaune says, a note of the same old bitterness back in his voice. “What’s important is freeing Oscar.”

The lab door opens and Maria hurries in. “Sorry I’m late! I was up on the roof watching the puffins fly in, and just lost all track of time.” 

Qrow’s eyes go wide and he reaches for his sword. “Puffins? Are you sure they were–-”

“Relax, Qrow,” Clover says. “Fratterkies stay close to the ground, they wouldn’t come up to Atlas.”

“Anyway,” Maria continues, completely ignoring the panic she caused, “good thing I got here before you guys started. There’s something important we need to do first.”

“Oh?” General Ironwood looks to her. “What would that be?”

“To get as much information out of this boy as we can before he stops having an ancient warrior-king’s memories mixed in with his own!” Maria walks over to grab Oscar by the arm and drag him over to a chair. “Come, sit. Relax. Close your eyes. Don’t go digging so hard you alert him, don’t strain yourself, just keep your mind clear and say the first thing that comes to mind. The rest of you, ask him whatever you’d want to say to Ozpin.”

“Good idea.” Jaune moves over nearer Oscar as well. “Maybe we’ll actually get some answers. No worries if you don’t know, though. We know the sharing isn’t perfect.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, and leans back in his seat and shuts his eyes as Maria instructed. “Okay. I’ll do my best to channel his knowledge.” He’s done it before, if only slightly, and only once. It’s how he knew Atlas had transference machines in the first place. How he discovered there was hope of being free. 

Jaune takes the lead in questioning. “Who is the Summer Maiden?”

There is a slight pause, then Oscar smiles. “Serava,” he answers. “Wait… no, I don’t think that’s current. But I know her, and I… I love her?” His eyes spring open again. “I think that might have been the  _ first _ Summer Maiden. The one now is named… No, that one died years ago. Xuri! That’s it. Xuri Lumen, zebra faunus, lives in Vacuo.” 

Oscar grins. “I did it! That’s her, I’m sure of it!”

“What do the other Relics do?” Ren asks. “Or, all of them. You’re not the lamp.”

“The staff… is a power source. Unlimited?”

Ironwood speaks up from across the room. “That’s correct. The Relic of Creation’s magic is what’s holding the city of Atlas in the sky. It’s far too large to use gravity dust.”

“I  _ knew _ it was magic!” Over by the machine’s controls, Dr Perintol pumps a fist in the air. “Seventy-six years I’ve been waiting to hear that. Little kid me was right!”

Ironwood whirls around to stare at him, startled by the outburst. Fear flickers across his face. But it’s too late to send the old man out now. He knows too much, so the General’s already dwindling supply of trust will just have to stretch a little bit thinner. 

“The crown…” Oscar closes his eyes again and concentrates. “Destiny. Control. The last resort to fix anything at all.” He grimaces, then shakes his head. “I’m not getting much, just feelings. The crown is the most important one. He doesn’t like being so far away from it, because it makes him feel safe. He thinks… he thinks that even if Salem had all three of the other Relics, he could take them all back with the crown.” 

“Wow. Guess that’s why he put it at Beacon. What do you know about the sword?”

“I… I’m not getting anything. Sorry.” 

Ironwood stalks closer with his hands balled into fists, ready with his own question for Oz. “Why would you hide so much from all of us? You said you  _ trusted _ your inner circle with  _ everything! _ And–” 

It finally registers that the figure in front of him is a scared boy shrinking back in his chair. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I will direct my… concerns… to Ozpin when I see him alone.”

“Let’s have some easy questions, shall we?” Maria breezes over to push Jaune and Ren out of the way. “Don’t think, just answer. Where is Salem located?”

“West Perditus. Almost due north of Vacuo.”

“What is your goal for the world?”

“Unite the world. Unite the Relics. It’s what I have to do.” Oscar chokes slightly on the last part. “It’s what he thinks he has to do.”

“How attractive is Salem?”

“Very,” Oscar answers without hesitation, then claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh gods, no, that wasn’t me. No thank you.”

Maria laughs. “Well, at least we know you’re really getting things from Oz! What is Salem’s goal for the world?”

“To spread fear, destruction, tear down everything I try to build… then use the Relics to destroy Remnant.” Oscar looks around at his assembled audience. “Is that true? Why would anyone want…”

“It’s certainly what Ozpin thinks,” Jaune says. “Though I wouldn’t put it past him to feed lies even to you.” 

“It is plausible that she merely wants to die, and this is the only way,” Ren adds. “But this much effort over this much time… I’d think anyone could find a new purpose to life by now. If only there was a safe way to hear the other side of the story…”

Ironwood looks at the two of them, and backs away to stand with his Ace Ops again. 

Pietro clears his throat awkwardly. “Any other questions?”

“I  _ got _ mine.” Maria sounds a little too satisfied with herself. 

Nobody else speaks up. Ren and Jaune exchange uncomfortable glances. Ironwood looks vaguely impatient. Qrow shrugs.

“Taking that as a no. Oscar, if you would?”

Oscar gets up, takes a deep breath, and before he or anyone else can talk him out of it, he steps forward. Once. Twice. Climbing into the machine isn’t hard, and once he’s in Perintol wordlessly pushes a button to lower the glass shield.

“Well then, let’s not waste another moment.” Pietro’s legged chair carries him around to face Oscar. “Just try to relax, Oscar. Lower your aura shield and try pull up Ozpin’s aura in its place. Just for now; once the process gets going you won’t need to think about it. But we need him on top if he’s the one being moved.”

“It’s going to hurt,” Jaune warns. “I was there when Ozpin tried to do that to Pyrrha. The old Fall Maiden woke from her coma and started beating on the glass.”

Oscar’s muffled voice comes through the chamber door. “I can handle it. I’m ready.”

Pietro nods solemnly. “Okay. Archie, go ahead.”

Perintol starts typing on the control pad between the two chambers, and the machine hums as it comes online. “All systems active. Ripping this boy in half in three, two, one…”

“Archie!” Pietro tries to chastise his old friend but only ends up laughing. “Don’t scare him any  _ more!” _

Oscar is scared, but probably not as much as people keep thinking he is. He’s doing okay, really, given the situation. With what Pietro told him about Penny’s creation, this has all been done before by these same experts, so really…

The scariest part is the concept of figuring out what he’s going to do with himself once Ozpin is out of his body. But he’s already been admitted to Atlas Academy for the coming year, so that’s a good start. Even if it means he may not spend as much time around his current friends. Even if he did kind of cheat by using Ozpin’s aura and his magic, when he’s about to not have either of those anymore. 

He can’t get a good view of what Perintol is doing over at the controls, not from inside his chamber here. But Jaune and Ren are right in front of him, and he tries to give them a smile to show he’s okay. 

And then, pain. 

His vision clouds over with dark green, the color of Ozpin’s aura pulling away from his body. It surrounds him in a haze now for four inches around, burning and freezing and tingling all at once with no escape no matter how he squirms. 

The worst part is that it’s so  _ constant. _ Ozpin’s aura is flowing off of him, up those wires or tubes he saw above the chamber, and it’s really driving home the distinction between his body and  _ him _ . It’s not going upward, it’s just going  _ out _ , from all of him at once _. _ But through the pain, strangely enough it  _ is _ almost possible to get used to it, at least enough to pay attention to the outside again. 

His friends look worried. Oscar raises a hand and gives a weak thumbs-up, and Jaune returns one of his own. 

“This didn’t take so long when it was you in there,” Perintol comments to Pietro. He glances over at the two scrolls plugged into the top of the machine – Oscar’s old one, and then the one Ironwood had given him – but the meter gradually ticking from the larger aura capacity down to the earlier is still solidly in Ozpin’s section. 

“He must have a lot,” Pietro replies. “Simon came to see me about his training room meters glitching the other day, but of course there was nothing wrong with them. They just couldn’t handle someone with two sources of aura.”

Oscar can dimly hear them chatting outside, muffled by the glass. But then the pain intensifies again, excruciating and inescapable, and his mind goes blank as all other sensations are blotted out. 

Through the deep green haze he can make out the figure of Jaune beside himself with worry, looking back and forth between Oscar in front of him and the General and scientists to one side. He reaches out to grab Ren’s hand and holds it tight, and instead of slipping away, Ren steps in closer and pulls Jaune into a hug where neither of them can see Oscar directly anymore.

It’s only when things go strangely quiet that Oscar realizes he’s been screaming. 

There can’t be much left. It  _ has _ to be almost over. Right? But not quite. 

Just when he thinks it can’t possibly get any worse, this constant tearing at his very being, it spikes again. Oscar screams, louder than he ever thought his body could produce, and his vision becomes edged with black. The darkness grows inward, until the last thing he sees in the center of his view is the dark green cloud around him turning to a lighter shade. 

Then blackness washes over him, and the world and all its pain is wiped away. 

* * *

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Eudico says with an only slightly-stressed smile. She uncaps a dry-erase marker and writes, in bold letters at the top of a secondhand whiteboard,  _ THE PLAN. _ “For those of you who don’t already know… we’re staging a rescue mission.”

“Got that much,” LD calls, very pointedly sitting as far away from Biz as possible. “Pretty sure I could handle this on my own. Definitely don’t need him.”

Biz grumbles something inaudible under his breath.

“Biz is the backup plan, in case  _ everything _ goes to shit. Which ideally won’t happen, but at this point we all know better than to blindly hope for the best. We  _ shouldn’t _ need whatever horrifying armaments he’s surely got his hands on now, but I guarantee you’ll know it if he starts using them. You all know what you’re doing if that does happen.” Eudico considers this for a moment. ”As long as nothing’s on fire or sounding an alarm we’re  _ probably _ fine, but—”

“Fire is kind of Yang’s thing,” Ruby pipes up. “Especially in there, I’d be worried if she  _ didn’t _ set something on fire on her way out!”

“Okay, you heard her. Scratch the fire then.” Eudico looks and sounds kind of dubious.

Little Duck, on the other hand, takes a moment to figure out that yes, Ruby is completely serious, and then bursts out laughing. “Wow. I don’t know anything about this girl but I already like her. That’s who we’re rescuing?”

“Ruby’s sister Yang, and our teammate Weiss,” Blake says, and all eyes suddenly go to her.

“Wait. Weiss, as in Weiss  _ Schnee?” _

“She’s  _ nothing _ like her father. Not anymore.” Blake stares around the room with what looks like defiance. 

Next to her Ruby adds, “We took care of that. One year at Beacon with us, and then when her father kidnapped her the first time she attacked some mean rich lady with a boarbatusk! And then sort of, got disinherited, and ran away, and met up with us again and then… nearly died… point is she’s awesome and great and we love her!”

“Her semblance lets her summon fallen enemies, sometimes, it’s complicated.”

“It’s hereditary, isn’t it?” LD asks. “The…  _ ugh _ , Schnee semblance?”

“Yeah, but she got it from her mom, whoever that is. Jacques married in. She’s  _ very _ insistent that he’s ruined her family name and wants nothing more than to fix it.”

“Which is why he’s straight up kidnapped her and Yang!” Ruby scowls. “We can’t even risk letting them know we’re going to rescue them. He could check their scrolls.”

Eudico clears her throat.  _ “Anyway. _ Well-placed hatred against one particular miserable excuse for a human being aside, assuming he isn’t secretly part Grimm or something—”

“One of the Happy Huntresses is technically part Grimm,” Little Duck cuts in, “and honestly that’s an insult to her and whoever else out there might be. But keep going.”

Blake looks at Ruby. Ruby shakes her head as subtly as she can manage, which is to say it’s not subtle at all. Definitely a good thing that everyone’s more focused on Eudico and LD at the moment.

“Okay, you know what, not going to ask,” Eudico says eventually. “The plan is, Little Duck, me, Sparky, Shadow, and Red’ll head up to Atlas on the last transport of the day, and bide our time in LD’s safehouse up there until nightfall. Biz, you’re finding your own way up, do what you do best.”

Upon getting a thumbs-up from Biz, she draws a line to represent the ground, then a squiggly piece of rock above it, and labels the rock  _ ATLAS _ . 

“How do you know I still have a safehouse up there?”

“You did three days ago.”

“Okay, fair, just playing void’s advocate here, keep going.”

Eudico draws a rectangle on top of the rock, labels it  _ SAFEHOUSE _ , and then another rectangle labeled  _ SCHNEE MANOR _ .

“Under cover of night, we’ll take your car to Schnee Manor, and park it nearby. While you three deal with the fence, Little Duck’ll hop it and head inside. I’ll stay with the car in case we need to get away fast. D, your job is to find the girls and their weapons, and get them back to us in one piece. Ideally without being detected, nobody breaks in there for a reason and it’s not ‘cause there’s  _ not _ a reason. Once the fence is able to be crossed easily, you come back to the car unless things go bad.”

“I thought Biz was our backup?” Nora asks.

“Second backup. Backup for the backup.” Eudico rubs her eyes and mutters, “I’m way too tired for this right now, I promise it’ll make sense once we get there. Any questions?”

LD raises a hand. “You want them in one piece? Aren’t there two of them?”

Eudico just  _ sighs. _

* * *

“…Oscar? You there? Talk to me.”

Oscar blinks his eyes open to see Jaune leaning over him, holding out his hands over Oscar’s body. Aura surrounds him, white on Jaune’s hands linked to pale green of Oscar’s own, but both fade as Jaune stands and helps him up. 

He’s still in the room with the aura transference machine, but some of the observers have left. The Ace Ops and Qrow are probably out on another mission now, and Perintol and Maria have also disappeared. 

“What happened?”

“You blacked out,” Jaune tells him. “Right near the end of the process. It’s finished, but…” He points to the machine’s right chamber, where the robotic body meant for Ozpin still stands motionless against the back wall. “It doesn’t look like it worked.”

“Which is very strange,” Pietro adds, “because everything about the process looked normal. I honestly don’t know what to tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Oscar.” Ironwood, now, from his other side. “Removing Ozpin from a host has never been tried before. It’s possible that he simply doesn’t work by the same rules as everyone else. I’ve asked Pietro to examine the robot as well as the machine, to see if there may have been a fault.”

“I’ll take the body down to my Mantle workshop, if that’s okay,” Pietro says. “Fewer projects down there, so I can devote more time to it.”

“Of course. Go ahead.” Ironwood goes to the transference machine and carefully lifts the robot body out. “Will you need help carrying this? He’s rather heavy.”

“No, no, I’ve got it. Just lay him over me, my chair can handle it.” Pietro orders his chair over to the General, who puts down the failed experiment across Pietro’s lap. A few test steps to either side to check the balance, and then he’s off. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Oscar?” Ren asks once the scientist is away. “You were out for close to ten minutes.”

Oscar rubs his forehead. “I’m fine. Bit of a headache, that’s all.” His aura flares pale green. “Looks like I’m all here, anyway. And I suppose  _ he _ probably still is too.”

“Can you feel his presence? Maybe we’ve at least stirred him out of hiding?” The General sounds hopeful.

But Oscar shakes his head. “No. It’s the same as before. I can’t tell if he’s here or not. Unless… Try asking me things he’d know again.”

“Alright, well…” Jaune takes the lead. “You couldn’t pull up anything on the Relic of Destruction before. How about now?” 

Oscar thinks for a while, pursing his lips in concentration. “Nope. Still nothing.”

“What were the names of Ozma’s four daughters?” Ironwood asks something that may not be tactically useful, but would certainly be a test of shared memory. 

“Um… that name I said before, the original Summer? At least I think that’s who that was. The others were…” He pauses for a long time. “I’m getting nothing. Not even vague feelings like I had before.”

“But if he’s not in you, and he’s not in the robot, then…” Jaune’s eyes flick back and forth between his friends and Ironwood. “What did we do to Ozpin?”

“I wonder,” Ren starts, considering his words carefully, “if what Ozpin did to himself after the crash was different from how we’ve been thinking of it.” At Ironwood’s quizzical look, he continues, “We thought he was hiding behind Oscar, watching from deep in the back of his mind. But what if he just closed himself off and went dormant, and he’s still like that even in his new body?”

“Possible,” Ironwood admits, “but why would he not wake up? Unless he was counting on Oscar to call him back somehow?”

“In which case he’d be stuck now, in a coma.” Oscar frowns. “But I have no idea what I could have done. I tried bringing him up many times and never could.”

“There is… one thing we could try,” Jaune says. “Assuming he is in the robot, but just messed up somehow. We fix him the same way as any electronics. Turn him off and then on again.”

“Meaning…”

“We kill him and let reincarnation sort him out.” Jaune is met with a fierce glare from the General, and not much better from his friends. “Just a proposal! Thinking through our options here.”

Ironwood’s glare turns into a full on scowl. “I will not see my mentor for all these years, and this kingdom’s best chance at surviving the coming storm, be murdered before we even get a chance to talk to him. Doctor Polendina can sort him out. I have full confidence in his abilities.”

Oscar isn’t too enthusiastic about the idea either. “He’d come back in someone else’s head. I wouldn’t do that to someone.”

“But at least it resets the clock,” Jaune points out. 

“Which would be just as urgent again by the time he got back to us,” Ren says. “Ozpin could appear anywhere in the world, and we had a hard enough time crossing the border the first time.” 

“Speaking of which…” All eyes turn to the General. 

Ironwood casts his gaze down as he speaks. “I know the world does not mean to attack Atlas. The closure and embargo are not necessary. But when Amity is completed, we will need the full fleet in defense position. I need the excuse to keep them in place, just this little while longer.”

“Because of Salem,” Oscar says quietly and slightly unnecessarily, after a quick glance around the room to make sure certain observers are in fact gone and won’t learn more things they’re not supposed to. Ironwood really wouldn’t appreciate that at the moment.

“We  _ need _ to be ready for her. She overwhelmed Beacon. She very nearly overwhelmed Haven. I will  _ not _ let her take Atlas. And, with the full might of our military, even  _ she _ won’t be able to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what Salem's plans through all this could possibly be. I wonder where Watts is. I'm sure neither of those things will become relevant in the near future.
> 
> Ticker, honey, you maybe shouldn't trust your new cousin, like at all.
> 
> Fans of Flame's other work in the RWBY fandom may recognize Xuri. She won't be directly in this fic, but who says the story is ending with this one? ;)
> 
> Anyway that's ~~at least~~ two separate rescue missions coming for Freezerburn, it sure.......... would be a shame................ if they came at the same time............................


	12. Part 1 Episode 10: A Hands-On Approach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Callow" is missing while Tyrian pays someone else a visit. Weiss tries out a new summon. Neither Ruby nor Blake are really much for parties—Nora, however, is all for lots of food and getting overly competitive in video games. And, unknown to most of the players involved, a new challenger approaches.

For someone who had seemed so promising, Callow Tock is turning out to be  _ far _ more trouble than he’s worth. First he attracts too  _ much _ attention by being, admittedly, scarily effective at murder. And now he  _ doesn’t even show up to work. _

Eudico did not get enough sleep,  _ or _ caffeine, for this.

She  _ knows _ he isn’t absent because he was murdered like so many of the enforcers. He’s the one who  _ did _ all that, even if he never outright admitted it. He wouldn’t go down himself, not without one hell of a fight, and a fight like that would attract  _ some _ attention.

But it’s still with some reluctance that she asks Blake, quietly, “Have you seen Callow today?”

“Nope,” Blake replies. “Ruby was hoping he died or something. But we’ve all been pretty sure he just isn’t here today. He didn’t call in or anything?”

“I’m honestly not sure he has a scroll,” Eudico admits. “He was scheduled to clock in three hours ago, and he just… hasn’t. Maybe Ticker has some idea, but her shift doesn’t start for another hour and I don’t want to wake her up any earlier than she has to.”

“I mean, she’s probably already up, and you texting her probably  _ wouldn’t _ wake her up?”

“No, it would, she sets an alarm for half an hour before she’s scheduled to clock in and keeps her scroll on when she’s sleeping in case someone has an emergency.”

Blake opens her mouth. Shuts it. “That’s… specific. The two of you are pretty close, then?”

“No! Well, yes, but not in the way you’re—no. Yes? It’s complicated. I think she’s great, I don’t know  _ why _ she puts up with me sometimes but I try to be a good friend in return for her dragging me out of bars late at night. And trying to keep me from drinking myself to death. She’d really deserve much better than me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Eudico turns to look at her strangely. “What?”

“I said, are you sure about that?”

“Why… wouldn’t I be? She deserves someone strong. Someone who’ll be there for her. Not someone like me.”

Blake hesitates for a while before saying anything in return. At last, she says, “I used to think the same thing. About one of my teammates. Ruby’s sister, Yang. She’d been flirting with me since the day we met at Beacon, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested too. But I thought she deserved better. Better than someone who’d actively helped push the White Fang too far, and then ran instead of staying behind and trying to fix things. Someone who wouldn’t even admit she was a faunus.”

Her hand goes to one of her cat ears self-consciously. Her bow is long gone by now, but she’d definitely wondered, sometimes, if she should have kept it.

She made the right decision. She  _ knows _ that. And yet… 

“Then Beacon fell,” Blake continues, softer. “My past came back to bite. The Fang attacked Beacon, and Yang, she… she lost her  _ arm _ trying to protect me. So I ran. Again. I thought it would be better for everyone if I stayed away for a while, maybe even forever. One of our other friends, Sun, decided to follow me. For entirely the wrong reasons, of course, but the thought was appreciated… eventually. And I needed a friend to talk me out of doing nothing while people I cared about were in danger.”

“So I came back. Not because I thought anyone would want me back, but because I  _ couldn’t _ stay out of it if I wanted to, and I… did miss them. I missed my team most of all. We were Team RWBY. Ruby, Weiss, Blake, Yang. And things would never be the same, but maybe we could do…  _ something. _ At least I could try.”

Blake looks at Eudico again. Her gaze hardens. “They all forgave me. And do you know what my teammates, my  _ family _ would say if I told them that Yang didn’t deserve me? Yang would come back with a bad pun and eventually joke that I didn’t deserve  _ her _ . Ruby would look at me strangely for a few seconds and then pull one of her impromptu motivational speeches out of nowhere. And Weiss would ask me what I was on, no hesitation. I might not have known you or Ticker for very long, but I can promise you she’d be the same way.”

“She’s  _ not. _ Maybe as a friend, but she thinks I’m a horrible kisser—”

“Wait, what?”

“—okay, never mind that, it’s not important. You said you and Red’s  _ sister _ were interested in each other? I would have sworn you and  _ Red _ were.”

And it is there that Blake’s brain completely fries itself.

“What? No! No, we’re not—she’s cute, sure, but she’s into  _ Weiss _ . Who is… also cute, but definitely into Ruby, and  _ I’m _ into Yang, and Yang has  _ not been subtle at all. _ ”

Eudico raises an eyebrow. “Now who’s the one in denial?”

Blake opens her mouth to protest. Shuts it. Glares at Eudico. Eventually she says, “You just admitted that  _ you’re _ in denial. At least you’ve kissed her, apparently!”

“It doesn’t count, it was to avoid the authorities.”

“I have more and more questions.”

Unfortunately, none of them are going to be answered right now or anytime soon. Blake’s scarcely finished speaking when, with an audible  _ pop _ and flash of pink sparkles, there’s quite suddenly another woman in the room. Ticker’s here, looking surprisingly not asleep and holding two disposable cups of coffee, one of which she passes to Eudico.

“Hey there, Eudi! Meant to drop in earlier, got side-tracked when I ran out of coffee grounds and had to run to the store. Well, more like quickly pop down the street to the store, you know what I mean.” Ticker winks at Eudico, says without looking, “Hi, Shadow! So, Eudi, meant to text you last night, that one’s on me, sorry love, but my cousin? Callow, right? He told me to tell you, had a medical emergency, said he  _ should _ be back and fine by tomorrow.”

“Right,” Eudico says wearily. She takes a sip of her own coffee. A contented sigh escapes her before she returns her attention to Ticker. “Really wish he’d let me know that himself, instead of going through you, but. At least we know where he is. Probably an issue with his prosthetic, it looks solid but we  _ all _ know looks can be deceiving.”

Eudico taps her left leg meaningfully. Blake doesn’t get it at first, not until it fully registers that legs don’t normally make sounds like metal when you tap them.

“You’re right. Looks  _ can _ be deceiving,” Blake says. “Listen. While he’s not here, you need to know—”

“Shadow.  _ Blake. _ ” Eudico shakes her head wearily. “I know you and he have some kind of history. Not right now.  _ Please.” _

“I… okay.” Blake sighs, puts her hands up. Her ears visibly droop. “I’ll go get to work then.”

She leaves before anyone else can get a word in, but she hasn’t even left before she’s thinking. There  _ has _ to be some way to make Eudico listen. ‘Callow’ is dangerous. And his name isn’t even Callow. It’s Tyrian, and  _ he tried to kidnap Ruby. _

Eudico  _ would _ understand if she got out that much. The issue is being able to get that far.

She’ll figure it out. It’ll be easier once the rest of Team RWBY is back. Once Yang is back, and Blake’s brain can stop projecting her feelings onto the wrong sister. Tyrian is a terrible person and, frankly, a disgrace to all faunus, but that can wait until he gets back.

Although, Blake can’t help but wonder where he really is. She’s not buying a medical emergency one bit. Tyrian  _ causes _ medical emergencies. He has aura, so it takes a lot just to hurt him. If he needed a hospital, it would be so bad he wouldn’t have been able to tell Ticker about it.

So  _ where is he? _

* * *

A thunderous clang marks the closing of the meeting hall’s tall double doors. Tyrian and Watts walk forward on either side of the long table, though Watts passes by his assigned seat to borrow Hazel’s instead, staying directly across from his work partner and directly at their master’s right hand. 

“So, Tyrian and Watts…” Salem gestures with one hand, and the pair sit. “What do you have to report?”

Watts speaks up first. “All is progressing well, Your Grace. I have obtained the network passcode for Jacques Schnee. Once I use it to hack the upcoming Council election in his favor, that login will suddenly gain complete administrator privileges. I can take control of every part of the kingdom's electronics.”

“Very good. And you, Tyrian?”

“I’ve been working on the General’s, ah…  _ public image.” _ Tyrian grins and taps his fingers together. “Nobody likes him. So whenever someone speaks out – there they go, silenced in the night. And our dear Ironwood is doing a  _ wonderful _ job of spreading discontent.”

Somehow the madman’s grin becomes even wider. “Soon, I think I can even take his allies too! Qrow Branwen is in Atlas, and he's become quite friendly with the leader of the Ace Ops. We have, shall we say… unfinished business? I get them both in one place, kill Qrow, and then suddenly Clover’s the one with blood on his hands.”

“An interesting plan,” Salem remarks. “But it may take more than that to break Ironwood’s trust in his top man. Consider turning them against each other publicly first. Is there anything else I should be informed of?”

Watts holds up one finger. “Yes, Your Grace, there is. My plans to turn Jacques Schnee completely have encountered troubles from his dust mines. He is preoccupied and that makes him difficult to work with. It seems the faunus there have revived their old resistance movement. I've been trying to help him quell the revolt so we can all get back on track, but those  _ animals _ have gotten much more violent than they were the last time.”

Tyrian’s eyes narrow and he interrupts before Salem can speak. “You mean Vox Faunus? Those agents of chaos, throwing a new wrench into the kingdom’s gears? The ones disrupting the flow of dust into whatever project the General is doing at Amity Colosseum? Why would you stop them? I’ve infiltrated their ranks! I’ve pushed them further than they ever would have gone by themselves!”

“You mean to say the one who’s been killing all the enforcers I send in is not The Business returned, but  _ you?” _

“So  _ you're _ how the SDC has seemed to know our moves in advance?”

Salem rests her face in her hands. “Really?” she asks without looking up. “Do you two even  _ talk _ to each other?”

“Of course we do!” Watts protests. “We have a plan together, for the night of the election. Tyrian is going to… well, do what he does best… and I’ll fabricate a video to frame the Protector of Mantle for the deed.”

“But in your free time before then, you've managed to oppose each other.” Watts tries to speak up again, but is silenced by a wave of Salem’s hand. “Enough. Tyrian is right about disrupting Ironwood’s supply chain for whatever he’s doing up there.” 

“But Jacques–”

“Is irrelevant,” Salem cuts in. “You have his credentials already. You  _ are _ Jacques Schnee. We don’t need the real one.” She rolls her eyes as if this point should have been obvious. “Besides… I do believe in equal rights among my subjects. Why did you think I supported the White Fang over any number of human terrorist groups?”

Watts’s eyes go wide and he splutters incoherently for a moment, but fails to come up with anything meaningful to say. 

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Tyrian says with a slight bow. “But some of Ozpin's children have also joined. Shall I… deal with them?”

“Which ones?”

“The cat, the girl with the hammer… and the girl with the silver eyes.” Tyrian taps his fingers together again and licks his lips. 

Salem is silent for a while, staring up at the candelabra over the table as she thinks. “Blake, Nora, and Ruby…” She purses her lips, and then looks Tyrian in the eyes. “I once asked you to capture Ruby for me, alive. That order is rescinded. But do not cause unnecessary conflict, especially not within the mines. If the students happen to be working toward our same goal, let them. Our main concern is the Relics in Atlas – both of them.”

“The silver-eyed girl was carrying Knowledge when she was arrested. It was confiscated and put with their weapons. Poor fools don’t know what they have. If Doctor Watts can handle the cameras… I would  _ love _ to handle the guards.” 

“And what of Creation?” Watts asks. “We know Ironwood has the Winter Maiden somewhere near him. We can't allow him to transfer her power to someone in fighting shape. If we stay the course, we can build up a massive Grimm attack on Mantle. We wipe out their defenses, then move on Atlas.”

“No.” Salem shuts down the proposal with a word. “A frontal assault has failed at Beacon and at Haven. This time, we do it  _ quietly _ . And that means Cinder must be found and brought back under control. She doesn't do quiet. I still need a Fall Maiden to finish the job at Beacon… whether that's Cinder or not.”

“Do you want us to seek her out, Your Grace?”

Salem shakes her head. “You need not concern yourselves with that. I will handle Cinder…  _ personally _ . Return to Atlas and focus your efforts on the Relic of Knowledge and the mines. You are dismissed.”

Tyrian and Watts stand in unison and both bow, before turning to leave the room. Salem watches them go and finally stands herself once the heavy door is fully shut. She raises her hands to the back of her head… and slowly undoes the thin black ribbons that hold her hair in place. 

* * *

“Not right now, Whitley,” Jacques calls, answering the knock at his office door. 

But the door opens anyway, and the wrong child comes in. Weiss: unarmed, but with that same defiance in her eyes that had preceded every massively inconvenient thing she’d ever done. Just behind her, of course, is Yang. The one who had corrupted one of his daughters the moment she went away to Beacon, and who enabled all her unnatural perversion to this day. Jacques would like nothing more than to throw her out – not just from his house, but from the entire Kingdom of Atlas. 

But he can’t. Well, he  _ could _ ask security to seize her in the night and drop her in some remote corner of Mantle. Or into the mines; he can always use more free labor power. But the thin, not quite healed line of red across his neck is a constant reminder of just how disobedient Weiss might become if he tried. 

Jacques sighs, and glares at the two girls. “In case you can’t see,” he says icily, gesturing at his desk, “I’m quite busy at the moment. Whatever it is, don’t bother me with it now.”

Neither makes any move to leave. Yang in particular has brought three very suspicious things: a sheet of paper, a pen, and a smile. There’s no way  _ that’s _ going to be good. 

Yang steps forward. “Don’t worry, this will only take a moment. If you cooperate.”

Jacques takes the paper she offers and reads over it. His nostrils flare and lips turn downward, entire face turning red, until halfway down the page he just can’t take it anymore. He shoves the paper back into Yang’s hands. “Absolutely not!” he declares. “How  _ dare _ you think you can dictate SDC policy? The company belongs to  _ me. _ You–” He glares at Weiss. “–are not even an heiress, anymore. You have  _ no  _ right.”

“We’re not asking for much,” Weiss says, remarkably calmly. 

“A  _ one hundred percent _ salary increase for  _ every worker _ I employ in  _ every single mine? _ ”

“Excluding security personnel. I  _ know _ you can afford it. You could do ten times that and still turn record profits.”

Jacques slams a fist on his desk. “That is absurd, and only goes to show you really do know nothing about running a business. Clearly revoking your claim was the right decision.”

“Speaking of which,” Yang interrupts, “I tried to convince Weiss to make you give that back, but she insists she doesn’t want to run the company herself.”

“I might be convinced just to run it better than you,” Weiss says. “But honestly, anyone would. I’d rather just kill you and be done with it.”

Before he can stop himself, Jacques puts one hand to his neck, then lowers it and glares at his daughter with renewed fury. “If you kill me, your brother inherits everything,” he sneers. 

Weiss only smiles back at him. “Not while he’s under 18. If you die  _ now _ , the company goes to Mother. I trust she’d appoint a good Board to take over.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Except, as Jacques is beginning to strongly suspect, she just might. 

“Back to the order,” Yang suggests, waving the sheet of paper. “I’m not sure you read the whole thing. Doubling everyone’s wages is one point, yes, but Weiss also told me what happens to people who get injured on the job and need prosthetics. We think it’s time you forgave all outstanding debts to the company.”

Jacques practically chokes at the sound of  _ that. _

“Oh, and one more thing.” There’s  _ more _ to this ridiculous list? “We don’t really know much about this new Vox Faunus group, but it sounds like they want better working conditions. You’re going to ask them for a formal list of demands, and when they give you one, you’re going to agree to every item.”

“I most certainly am  _ not!” _ Jacques’s face is about as red as it goes, and he pushes his chair back a foot to reach under his desk. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Weiss tells him, and suddenly there’s another sword at his throat. “There’s no need for security. Just sign the order.”

Yang sets the sheet of paper down in front of him, and lays the pen she brought next to it. She steps back and waits expectantly, but Jacques makes no move to touch either. 

“A contract signed under duress is not valid,” he warns, trying his hardest not to lean forward as he’s accustomed to when making threats. 

Yang laughs at him. “How are you going to prove it? You can’t tell anyone we’re here without admitting you’ve been holding us illegally.”

She looks to Weiss and asks, “You know, don’t you think he needs to calm down a little? Maybe you could bring up something to help.” 

Weiss takes one glance at the spluttering figure of her father, and agrees. A wave of her fingers dispels the shining knight that held Jacques in his seat, and then a pair of different glyphs appear behind him in the room’s corners. 

Tall, skeletal figures climb ponderously out of each glyph like a portal. They loom over him on both sides and Jacques cranes his neck to see, only to quickly look away again. What are these Grimm that look like humans? With their empty, soulless eyes, and fingers with far too many knuckles, shambling up next to him while another pair climb forth behind them?

Jacques is more terrified than he’s ever been in his life. And with the knight gone, he’s free to get up and flee from the office. But he doesn’t. His body feels  _ heavy _ , far more than it should. He wants to berate Weiss for daring to assault her own father, but the words come out at normal volume instead of a shout. “What do you think you’re… What  _ are _ these things? I swear, if you lay another finger on me…”

“Shut up… Just sign the thing.” Yang picks up the pen and puts it into Jacques’s hand herself. She’s moving a little sluggishly as well, but still has determination on her face as she steps back to take Weiss’s hand. 

“It’s fine,” Weiss says through gritted teeth, still intent on her concentration. “Everything is fine.” It sounds more like an order than an observation. 

Slowly, finally, Jacques’s hand moves toward the blank line at the bottom of the contract. “It’s fine,” he repeats, as his eyelids begin to droop. 

A third pair of tall, white skeletons now stands in the corners, filling almost the entire space behind the desk and straining Weiss’s semblance to the limits of her current ability. She drops to one knee and holds her summoning with one palm flat on the floor, leaning gently into Yang who still stands beside her. 

Jacques’s fingers twitch, and a sloppy but readable signature appears on the page. “Who cares…” he murmurs to himself. A moment later, there is a solid thunk as his head hits the desk.

Weiss drops concentration and the six Grimm vanish in an instant. She lunges forward to snatch the signed order from under Jacques’s limp hand, and leaves the pen behind as she and Yang make a break for the office door. 

“Thanks for doing the right thing for once!” Yang calls back to him, standing in the open doorway. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of getting this to the press for you.” Before Jacques can raise his head and shake away the lethargy, she disappears into the hall and the door slams shut behind her. 

* * *

Ruby Rose, aspiring huntress and current part-time revolutionary, does  _ not _ like parties. 

Her sister Yang loves parties. Or did, although that might have been one of the many things that changed after the Fall of Beacon. When she mentioned tonight’s event to Yang over text, Yang hadn’t really sounded too enthusiastic one way or the other. Actually, she’d seemed more concerned about making sure Ruby knew to leave if she got uncomfortable or didn’t want to stick around any longer. Which was kind of ironic, considering where Yang currently was.

She’s been here for about an hour already. Honestly that’s been about fifty minutes too long and she spent the last ten hiding in the bathroom, as you do in these situations. At this point, she probably can’t hide in Flynt’s bathroom any longer, she just wants to go home. She’d much prefer to go  _ home _ home, back on Patch with Dad and Zwei, but she hasn’t gone back there in over a year now and probably won’t be able to for… a while. Maybe not ever.

That’s a sad thought, and not one Ruby wants to dwell on right now and maybe not ever actually! It’s a big part of why she emerges from the bathroom when she does. On the walk back to Eudico’s place, she’ll need to keep an eye out to make sure she doesn’t walk into a wall or something. Won’t be able to think too hard about everything she left behind in pursuit of doing something,  _ anything _ to stop the people who brought down Beacon.

That Ruby had no idea what she was getting herself into, and more importantly no idea what she was getting the few friends she still had left into. Would she have chosen to go to Haven if she’d known then what she knows now? Would Jaune have, or Nora, or Ren?

Nora, at least, is currently mashing buttons on her controller and ignoring everything else in an attempt to win. It’s difficult to tell who’s winning between her and Neon, who’s lounging carelessly on the couch but is also gripping  _ her _ controller so hard that her knuckles are losing color.

“Hey, Ruby!” Flynt waves from the beanbag he’s sitting in. “You doin’ okay? Spent a while in there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ruby says automatically. Then it occurs to her that she would have had an easier out if she’d said the opposite, and she smacks a hand against her forehead. “Actually, I should… head back. Eudico wanted my help with something when I got back, I shouldn’t keep her waiting, you know! It’s very, very important, Vox-y…” She spreads her hands for emphasis. “Stuff.”

“I… see. Well, was nice to see you off the job!”

“Yeah, you too?” It comes out as more of a question than she’d like. “Guessing Blake’s in the bathroom, can you tell her—wait.  _ I _ was in the bathroom. Where’s Blake?”

“Left a few minutes ago, said she’d drop someone a text to let us know she got back safe, bet you could catch up to her if you hurried.” Flynt waves and returns his attention to the screen, where both player characters have significantly smaller health bars but are still fairly evenly matched.

Ruby hurries out, pulling her scroll as she does. She scrolls over to Blake’s contact (Ninja Catgirl) and hits the call button. As her scroll rings, a triumphant “YES!” that sounds suspiciously like Nora comes from inside. She shuts the door behind her, and starts walking while she waits.

_ “Hi, Ruby, what’s up?” _ Blake asks, her picture coming up on Ruby’s screen. Whoops. Ruby hadn’t meant to hit the  _ video _ call button. Oh well!

“Well, Atlas?” Ruby grins. “Guess I’m missing Yang more than I thought. Just left, was wondering if you could maybe, wait up? If you’re not almost back of course!”

_ “Not yet, I just turned onto Needle Road, I’ll wait for you.” _ One of Blake’s ears flicks unconsciously, and then she grins back and raises an eyebrow.  _ “Are you afraid of the dark, Ruby?” _

“Of course not! Really, I’m not. As much. Anymore.” Ruby pretends not to see Blake getting progressively more and more amused. “If I  _ was _ still afraid of the dark,  _ which I’m not _ , it isn’t being afraid  _ of _ the dark, it’s of what’s in it!”

_ “Like what?” _

“Um… Grimm?”

_ “Mantle’s at least mostly protected from them. There  _ is _ a wall. It’s a wall that’s very badly broken in one place, but that one place isn’t anywhere near here, and the alarms would go off if there were Grimm coming.” _

“Okay, then… I don’t know, those people that work for the Schnee Dust Company. The ones who…” Have Grimm in cages. And are clearly willing to use them if anyone so much as steps a toe out of line. “You turned onto Needle from… Fifth?”

_ “Fifth Avenue, yes. I’m at the intersection.” _

Ruby turns onto Fifth, and against her better judgment looks around. It’s dark. But there’s streetlights, it’s not  _ that _ dark. Well, it is that dark, but really it’s fine.

“Can you just… stay on the call? Please? I’m almost there.”

_ “Of course.” _ Blake’s ears flick again, and she looks up with a frown.  _ “Do you hear that?” _

“Hear what?”

_ “I’m not sure.” _ She’s not looking at her own scroll now. Her eyes dart around.  _ “It almost sounded like…” _

Ruby doesn’t hear what it almost sounded like. Before Blake can tell her, something tackles her from the side. The scroll goes flying, then cuts out entirely.

“No,” Ruby whispers. “No, no, no no  _ no! _ Blake?”

_ Call ended with Ninja Catgirl, _ her own scroll reads.

Ruby stares at it for a moment too long. Then she runs. She pockets her scroll and reaches for Crescent Rose with a practiced motion. Her fingers find nothing, and she swears under her breath. She doesn’t  _ have _ her Crescent Rose. She doesn’t have a  _ weapon. _

And neither does Blake.

But Ruby has her fists, and all that training at Haven can’t have been for nothing. Even if most of it was knocking Oscar flat and then getting knocked down herself when Ozpin took over. It worked against Mercury!

Maybe if she’d been able to fight without a weapon before… everything… she could have taken him back at the Vytal Festival. Maybe she could have taken him down. Maybe she could have stopped Pyrrha, and… Penny…

She blinks back tears and runs faster. At some point, she uses her semblance, trailing rose petals and streaking down Fifth Avenue like a scared red bullet. All the streets look the same in the dark, which one is Needle, which one is Needle—

_ That one! _

Some guy mutters, “Stupid animal bitch—” 

Then he’s quite abruptly cut off by a red blur slamming into him from behind. He trips and falls, and the other four turn their attention to the new threat.

Oh. One of them has a knife. More importantly, two of them are holding Blake by her arms, but Blake’s fine! Mostly. Even if her eyes go wide when she sees Ruby, and she yells, “Ruby,  _ no _ , get out of here!”

One of the guys holding her slams an elbow into her face. Blake reels backward, aura absorbing the blow but it still looks like it  _ hurt. _

“Leave her alone,” Ruby says, eyes narrowing.

“Oh, look, we get two for the price of one,” comes a voice from behind her. Apparently the asshole she’d bodyslammed hadn’t stayed down. “Wonder what kind she is? You hiding a tail, little red?”

“First off,  _ why _ does everyone call me that, second off,  _ no _ , I’m actually a human, not that it should matter!” Ruby clenches her fists. “Let Blake go, and I’ll let you walk away.”

Okay,  _ that _ gets laughs all around, intimidation clearly isn’t going to work. Something else then. Distract them. She tries again, “Why are you doing this?”

“Oh, didn’t get the memo?” One of the assholes holding Blake laughs. “Higher-ups think one of us has been murdering all our friends. That bastard Prodman might have left, but he didn’t have it in him to kill anyone.  _ We _ know who it really is.”

“So you’re attacking innocent faunus.” With her scythe, Ruby could take them. Without it… she edges closer to Blake, crosses her arms stubbornly. “Seems fair. And by that I mean it doesn’t seem fair at  _ all _ , why are you even—how can you  _ possibly _ think this is okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? After all, you’re just ani— _ OOOGH!” _

The  _ OOOGH _ would be courtesy of Blake, taking the opportunity to kick one of her attackers off and elbow the other one in the neck. Ruby runs for her, grabs her hand, and activates her semblance.

A black and red blur zooms past them all, briefly splitting into three to go around one and then solidifying back into one multicolored blur trailing red and black petals in its wake. Ruby pushes on, doesn’t let herself stop or slow down. For a time she’s not even sure if she can.

Then she stumbles out of it as her aura breaks. She’s still holding Blake’s hand. Realizing this, she drops it self-consciously and stands there for a moment, before giving up and pulling Blake into a hug.

“I thought you—I can’t lose anyone else. I can’t lose you, Blake,” Ruby sobs, and oh she’s crying apparently, that’s a thing now, okay then. 

“I had it under control,” Blake says weakly, pulling away with a slightly forced smile. “I was going to wait until they all were focused on me, and then use my semblance to make a break for it.”

“Of course you had it under control! I just…” Ruby tries not to sniffle and fails. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. And not you, Blake, you mean so much to me, and to Yang and Weiss and everyone else, I just… couldn’t not at least try. Even if you were fine! Which of course you were.”

_ What if they caught you again, what if they brought down your aura before you could get away, what if— _

Ruby tries to say  _ I’m glad you’re okay _ and  _ we need to tell Eudico about this _ at the same time, which somehow comes out instead as something along the lines of “We need you to be okay.”

Blake looks at her. Blinks. “Um. Yeah. You too, Ruby, what if they’d gotten you too? What if they’d gotten you  _ instead? _ I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“Well—they didn’t. I’m glad you’re okay. But we need to get inside. Tell Eudico about this, there has to be  _ something _ she can do, and inside is, well, safer?”

“As safe as you can get in Mantle, I guess.” Blake shrugs, looks away. She looks back at Ruby in a few moments and says, in a quieter voice, “Thank you. For coming after me.”

“How could I not? You were in trouble, and we… we wouldn’t be Team RWBY without B. Without Blake. I wouldn’t be Ruby without you and Weiss. And Yang and my friends.” Ruby smiles, puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’d do it again, anytime.”

“I know you will,” Blake says with a smile. 

Ruby’s tears may be finished, but her outpouring of love is certainly not. “It’s like Maria said,” she begins. “Life is beautiful, life is precious, and it must be protected. That’s how I feel about my friends. About you. You’re beautiful and precious to me, Blake, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

She slips her hand back into Blake’s, and they walk together the last few blocks back home. 

* * *

Salem stares into her closet. Alongside one empty hanger there are three long dresses: the ancient periwinkle outfit that’s as immortal as she is, her ceremonial battle garb, and a duplicate of her standard black robe to wear when the first gets dirty. None of those seem very suitable for a trip to Atlas. Even if it’s tempting to put on the battle robes and arrive in style. 

Salem doesn’t own any other clothing. Why would she need to? The Land of Darkness is warm and dry, temperate year round. This red-hemmed black dress with nothing beneath it is perfectly comfortable. 

But Atlas is cold. It snows, and the heating grid in Mantle turns that snow midair to rain. Aura could protect her from the cold, if she bothered to practice using it again. Not much point to that, for an immortal, but she does know how. And as for the frequent rain, a bit of hopefully inconspicuous magic should do the trick. 

Unfortunately, those aren’t the only problems with going undercover. Salem has a rather unique look – a good look, one she’s very fond of, but quite the opposite of inconspicuous. She’s going to need long sleeves no matter what. And a heavy layer of makeup. Hair dye might be pushing it though, she can’t compromise her vanity  _ that _ much. And white isn’t too unnatural, not when all five members of the richest family in Atlas have white hair too. 

Still, she doesn’t have the supplies, and it’s too risky to rely on illusion magic for everything. Emerald is here, but none of her clothes really cover much. Might as well appropriate some things from Cinder’s wardrobe instead. After all, it’s not like she’ll miss it. That woman couldn’t pick a favorite outfit to save her life. She wears something almost nonstop for a few months and then off it goes, discarded and never worn again. 

Besides, if everything goes as expected, Cinder won’t even be returning here to pick up everything she’s left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something wicked this way comes :)


	13. Part 1 Episode 11: This Life is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox Faunus is ready to execute their well-planned rescue mission. The Atlesian military is ready to execute their well-planned rescue mission. Sienna Khan is ready to... well, mostly head in and make life difficult for Jacques Schnee, as one does, there's not really a plan there at all. The only problem is, all three groups are converging on the Schnee Manor at the exact same time.
> 
> **CW: Rape mention. (Not onscreen.)**

It’s been a while since Vox Faunus did an operation all together. More than five years, actually, and longer since they had the full team they used to. Five years… hard to believe Vox was gone for that long. For five years Eudico has felt like it was only yesterday. 

“I wish Rudy were here,” she says, breaking the silence in Little Duck’s car. There were seven Zuud sisters, once. All of them caught in the blast that marked the beginning of the end for the old Vox. Only Rudy had come back. Back to the mines, at least… not back to Vox. 

“If we need Rudy for  _ this, _ we’re doing it wrong,” Little Duck comments. “Goal’s stealth, which means as few things going boom as we can manage. I just hope Biz got the message on that.”

“He knows he’s the final backup.” Eudico takes a deep breath. “We here already?”

“Yep.” The car slows and comes to rest one street over from the edge of the Schnee family property, and both operatives get out. “Really, we ought to have the three kids here. It’s their friends we’re saving.”

“That was the plan.” Eudico leans back against the side of the car and sighs. “Shadow had a point though, about making sure nobody notices we went to Atlas tonight. She and Sparky will handle it, and Red… I think she went with the White Fang or something. They needed someone who can fit through tight spaces.”

Little Duck leads the way over to the fence and gets out two pairs of heavy wire cutters. “Best get to work on this,” she says. “Don’t want mister final backup there to think we never made it in.”

The fence goes down easily, but LD hesitates before slipping inside. “I know what you mean about Zuud,” she says. “Feels incomplete without her. Probably for the best we didn’t bring Callow along though. Again… not the stealthiest.” She sighs. “Even if a bit of murder wouldn’t be out of place right now.”

“And there’s  _ clearly _ some history between him and the kids. All three of them call him the same other name, Tyrian, and they  _ hate _ him. I’ve tried to keep it out of Vox, but it’s hard when some of our own people are always on edge around each other.” 

Eudico hopes her hint about LD and Biz will be heard and taken to heart. And maybe it is, but it goes unacknowledged. 

“Want to take bets on how they know each other?” 

Eudico snorts. “Rather not. I’m sure someone will force the issue eventually, but right now I don’t want to know. All that matters is working together on missions. Like this one.”

“Right. I should get on that.” Little Duck takes a moment to adjust the bandanna over her face, then vanishes from sight before Eudico’s eyes. 

Only a shadow with nothing to cast it slips through the dark toward the Schnee manor. 

* * *

Officially, there is only one operative in the Atlesian military being sent to the home of Jacques Schnee this evening: Captain Clover Ebi of the Ace Operatives. Officially, General Ironwood received some disturbing intel concerning an assassination plot on Jacques Schnee’s life.

Unofficially, Clover is pretty sure he’s the one with the smallest grudge against Jacques here, and he still would happily let an assassination attempt go flawlessly. He might have even lent a little extra luck to the conspirators, except that there is no actual assassination plot. Also he’s not coming alone.

There’s Special Operative Winter Schnee, second only to the General himself, who had already been seated on the passenger side of the military truck when he’d opened the door. She likely wouldn’t have moved if he’d asked. So he didn’t. Considering what, or rather who, they’re up against? Clover would really rather have someone else at his back.

There’s also a black-feathered bird flying overhead as they pull into the driveway, and Clover would bet anything short of his own life that it’s Qrow. Who also,  _ technically _ , isn’t supposed to be here.

Winter wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t gotten permission, or at least some kind of guarantee to look the other way, from the General. Qrow is almost certainly the same.

“Here we are,” Clover says. He opens the door and hops out. Winter does the same, brushing her uniform off even though it’s already perfectly clean. “I’ll do the talking.”

Winter nods. “Likely for the best. Officially, I’m not here, and neither is Qrow.” She looks around with a frown. “Although it’s beginning to look like he actually just isn’t here.”

“He’ll be here.”

As if on cue, a triumphant caw comes from overhead. Both military operatives look up to see a crow tuck his wings in and dive for the driveway. He shifts midair, landing on his feet with a smug grin on his face.

“Hope I’m not late,” Qrow tells Winter. “Let’s get our girls.”

* * *

Sienna Khan is, maybe, not having the best day. First there was the near-slip of her disguise on the transport up to Atlas. Then when she made it up, thankfully without any witnesses she’d have to kill, Adam’s trail was nowhere to be seen. He’s never been good at staying unobtrusive, so where is he? And why did he come up here in the first place, when both of his primary targets are back in Mantle?

It must be something to do with that human in the plum coat he’s been hanging around with. One of Ballas’s allies, and someone who clearly knows things about his robotic arm. Is he aware that this isn’t the same man he knew before? Does he care?

Whatever the reasons, they don’t much matter to Sienna now. Adam and his friend have disappeared. She’s just sitting here alone on a bench outside the air-shuttle station, staring at her scroll as if it will somehow tell her what to do. 

Although… there is  _ one _ productive use of her time in Atlas. Protecting the people Adam wants dead is just as important as tracking him down, and may lead Sienna to him later anyway. And she knows where Yang and her friend are. 

It’s not  _ too _ far to the Schnee estate. Public transit could get her there in twenty minutes. Then it’s just a matter of, well… breaking in. Finding Yang and getting her out safely. And whatever else she can think of to do in there that would make the effort more worthwhile. 

Maybe assassinating Jacques Schnee. That would certainly be worthwhile. 

Sienna stands and begins making her way to the nearby bus line. No sense wasting time now. She’s got two humans to… save? 

Gods, that still feels so weird to think about. 

* * *

Clover raps on the door, then steps back, if not entirely back to where Qrow and Winter are. A few seconds pass before it opens to someone who is definitely  _ not _ Jacques Schnee. Looks around Ruby’s age, maybe a bit younger, and certainly looks  _ similar _ to Jacques.

With that in mind, and the way Winter is standing a little straighter beside him, Qrow would guess this is another Schnee kid. Weiss and Winter, apparently, have a younger brother, and it definitely isn’t a good sign that neither has ever once mentioned him. 

“Good evening,” Schnee Kid #3 says, looking pointedly at Clover and only Clover. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

He says  _ pleasure _ much the same way most people would say  _ Grimm. _ Which, yeah, fair. There was a time not that long ago when Qrow would have been equally thrilled to find the Atlesian military on his doorstep. He wouldn’t have been anywhere near as polite, that’s for sure.

It’s still a little strange to have the military on his side at all. But it’s not quite as strange as he would have thought.

“Good evening, Mr. Schnee. I’m Captain Clover E—”

“I know who you are. Why are you here?”

Yeah, this is  _ definitely _ Jackass Junior. He looks like him, he sounds like him, and the only indication that this  _ isn’t _ a somehow de-aged version of Jacques is the fact that Jacques almost certainly wouldn’t answer the door in person.

“We’ve received intel that your father is being targeted in an attack by citizens of Mantle who are unhappy with his policies. Should they succeed, they will level your home, killing everyone within, and they could easily damage the delicate Dust systems that keep us in the sky. General Ironwood sent us to keep you safe.”

As Clover speaks, Schnee Kid #3 gets progressively more and more pale. At last, he says, “I understand. Father will wish to speak with you. Wait here.”

“That could have gone worse,” Clover remarks, moments after the door is shut in his face.

“Yeah, and it could have gone  _ better _ ,” Qrow says in turn. “Bomb defusal? Really?”

“An assassination attempt is the one thing that will convince my—” Winter clears her throat. “Will convince Jacques to leave us alone in his home. On the off chance he believes us, he will retreat to his office. It’s in the center of the building and has reinforced walls. If not, he will assume we are after his files and will go to his office anyway to guard them. Attempts to hide or move Weiss and Yang will be minimal. We can use that.”

“Sounds pretty reasonable to me.” Qrow  _ could _ try to mess with her a little, but decides against it this time. “Hey. Was it just me, or did that kid—”

“Whitley.”

“Did he look a little… nervous?  _ Before _ we told him there were bombs, I mean.”

“Quite possibly. Whitley has always followed Jacques in everything, including his distrust of the military. You think he suspects we’re really here for Weiss and Yang?”

“No idea,” Clover says, “and I didn’t see anything. Sorry, Qrow.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just could have sworn—”

The door opens. Whitley again, and this time he’s not alone.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jacques demands.

Qrow has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. Here they go again.

* * *

A knock comes at Weiss’s door, and it opens before she can even call for Mother to come in. 

“The military is at our front door,” Willow says breathlessly. “Your uncle is with them, Yang. So is Winter. Your rescue is here. Come quickly, I can take you to your weapons.”

Weiss and Yang scramble to their feet and grab the single suitcase they’ve packed between them. They didn’t have much on them when they were captured, nothing more valuable than their weapons, but a few changes of clothes for each of them can’t hurt to have. And some spare Dust. There’s plenty of that around here. 

“We’re ready,” Yang tells her. “Got a text from Qrow when he was on his way.”

“I saw on the cameras. By now Jacques will be talking to them, trying to keep your friends out.” Willow cracks a slight smile. “I trust Winter can deal with him. She’s always been strong enough.”

“Let’s go,” Weiss says, shutting the door behind them. 

Willow leads the pair through the wide blue hallways of the Schnee Manor, nearly to the opposite end of the building from Weiss’s room. She’s mostly silent along the way, but offers comments on their progress as they begin to get close. 

Until from a cross hallway, a lone person’s shadow can be seen extending past the corner. Coming closer. Everyone freezes, and Weiss raises her hands, ready to use her semblance if called upon. 

“Security travels in pairs,” she hisses. 

And indeed, it’s not security. Not unless Jacques has suddenly hired a dark-skinned faunus woman and dressed her in the exact opposite of the usual white and blue uniforms. 

“Sienna?” Yang pushes Weiss’s hand down from its ready position. “You actually came!”

Sienna Khan’s eyes narrow. “This is twice as many Schnees as you said you had with you.”

“Oh! This is Willow, she’s cool too. It’s only Jacques and Whitley who are problems.”

“Please don’t hurt Whitley,” Willow says, already waving the group onward. “You can’t blame him for being left alone in a place like this.”

Sienna follows them. “But hurting Jacques is okay? I’m not  _ entirely _ here just to break you guys out, you know. I’m sure you can handle yourselves.”

“We can, but thank you anyway,” Weiss says. “It was a bit startling to learn that Yang knew the leader of the White Fang. The  _ dead _ leader of the White Fang, no less. But I know how awful my father has been to your people.”

“We did just force him at gunpoint to raise wages, though,” Yang adds. 

Willow stops at an unmarked door. “Your weapons are in here. I trust you can take things from here. Find your uncle, your sister. I need to get far from here to reduce suspicion.”

“Thanks, mom.” Yang flashes a smile, then leads the way into the storeroom. 

Weiss follows, and before the door swings shut behind them she hears Sienna ask, “Would you happen to know where I can steal some dust darts?” and then two sets of footsteps disappear into the distance. 

“Weapons,” Weiss says after a moment. “Right.”

The storeroom itself is fairly cluttered, full of confiscated items Jacques had apparently kept, but it doesn’t take too long to locate Ember Celica. A bright yellow gauntlet isn’t exactly inconspicuous, after all. Weiss picks it up, squints at it.

“Looks like your weapon was unloaded,” Weiss reports, passing it over to her.

Yang visibly scowls, but slips it on anyway. “My arm uses the same kind of ammo, give me a second.”

“You’ve got until I find Myrtenaster.” Weiss surveys the room with a sigh. “Which might be a bit. What even  _ is _ all this?”

“Most of it’s probably not metal. Or fireproof.” There’s the sound of her reloading behind Weiss, and then, “Hey, can you duck real quick?”

Weiss ducks, as one should when an angry woman who likes fire tells you to. A dust-infused fireball sails over her head and into a pile of boxes. They unsurprisingly fly everywhere, some now on fire, and Weiss is pretty sure the room is  _ messier _ now.

“Yang! As much as I appreciate you setting the place on fire, I don’t think that actually helped—”

“Found it.” Yang kneels, picks it up, and offers it by the hilt to Weiss. “Looks like yours isn’t loaded either. Bet you can still do a lot of poking with it. Works well enough for Oz, right?”

“I’m  _ not _ Ozpin,” Weiss scoffs, but she takes her rapier anyway. She relaxes a little once it’s back at her hip like always. “We… should probably  _ not _ burn the house down.”

“You sure?”

“Not  _ yet _ ,” Weiss corrects. “But don’t worry about putting it out, there’s a sprinkler system. I think. Should kick in soon.”

Something does kick in soon, but it’s not the sprinkler system. A box that previously had not yet caught fire explodes in a burst of ice dust. Weiss’s eyes go wide. She calls up a glyph to block the worst of the blast, but she’s still knocked backwards.

Yang catches her. In her arms. In her  _ very strong _ arms. 

“Shit! Sorry about that.” Yang makes no move to let go. If anything, she pulls Weiss a little closer, burying her face in her ponytail. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Weiss makes no move to pull away. 

“That’s good.” Yang considers this for a moment. “So, I guess we accidentally made some…”

_ “No.” _

“Freeze-or-burn? Freezerburn? Eh? Anything?”

“You’re  _ terrible,” _ Weiss says quite emphatically.

“Eh.” Yang shrugs. She pulls away a little, just enough to spin Weiss around to face her and beam her sunny grin. “You love me.”

Weiss smiles back. “I,” she starts, and then it fully registers what she’s saying. What Yang’s saying. She freezes.

“I,” she tries again, “love you?”

She loves Yang. And she loves Ruby and she loves Blake, but she also loves  _ Yang _ and Yang is  _ here _ right now, bright and brave and beautiful as always. One of the strongest people she knows, one of the first to see her,  _ really _ see her not just for all her glaring flaws but for how hard she’s worked to overcome them too.

She loves Yang.

“I love you,” she says, certain now. “I’ve loved you for… a while, I think.”

Yang looks like she wants to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, she smiles. Both girls get approximately the same idea at approximately the same time. Weiss leans up. Her eyes flutter shut.

Their lips meet. It’s no different from all the other times they’ve kissed just to piss Jacques off, and yet somehow, it being for real makes all the difference in the world. Yang’s arms circle Weiss’s back, pulling her closer as their lips part, only to meet again even more fervently.

When they do pull apart for a little longer, Yang strokes Weiss’s hair with a hand, whispers, “I love you.  _ Gods _ , does that feel good to say.”

“I love you,” Weiss says, and giggles despite herself. 

Does she have an image to maintain? Yes. Are they alone, together, where the only other person who could possibly be witnessing this is her mother from the cameras? Also yes. Mom has always expressed support of her girlfriend, regardless of whether it was Yang  _ or _ Ruby.

Oh gods, she actually has a girlfriend now. Maybe? They’ll figure it out.

Right now, Weiss has better things to do than think too hard about this. Like continuing to kiss the living daylights out of Yang Xiao Long. 

At least, she does until someone nearby clears her throat awkwardly and says, “I can come back if you’re busy?”

They quickly break apart. Weiss looks to the doorway, sees a woman leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. Dark clothes, dark eyes, a scarf tied over her face to conceal it and a hood pulled up over everything.

“A little,” Weiss says, which is the understatement of the century. She glances at Yang, who mouths one word, two syllables:  _ later. _ “Who are you?”

“Call me Little Duck. Or LD, Duck, D, any variation you like, there’s a lot and apparently  _ Little Duck _ is too much for some people.” Little Duck shrugs. “Assuming your next question is,  _ what are you doing here? _ I’m with Vox Faunus. More importantly, some of your friends sent me.”

“Blake? Ruby?”

“And Nora. All waiting for you back in Mantle.” Little Duck looks around, shrugs again. “Of course, if you’d rather stick around here kissing in a burning room—”

“We haven’t seen them in over a week,” Yang says. “And, okay, we haven’t seen our other friends in over a week either, but we  _ know _ they’re safe. Even if…”

Little Duck raises an eyebrow. She gestures for Yang to continue.

Weiss does instead, “You’re… actually not the first person to show up to rescue us today?”

“Oh. Huh.” Little Duck considers this. “Guess that’s one downside of keeping things all super secret like. Well, clock’s ticking. You going with them or with me?”

Yang looks at Weiss. Weiss looks at Yang, and holds out her hand. Yang takes it, gives it a squeeze.

“With you,” they say as one.

* * *

“So,” Sienna says. Anything to break the awkward silence as she walks with Willow Schnee. “Nice place you got here.”

She gets no response. 

“Shame your husband’s such an ass.”

Willow snorts, but still doesn’t say anything. 

“Why’d you marry him, anyway? If you’re okay with, you know, me. Faunus. Being a decent person.”

“I…” Willow shakes her head. “I don’t even know, anymore. I never cared about my father’s company, so he pushed me to find a husband who would take care of it. Except… I was never much interested in a  _ husband _ at all.”

“Me either. I can like anyone, but my one attempt at a boyfriend didn’t go well. Couple weeks after the first date, my memory blanked out for a few hours. When I woke up, he was dead and there was a bloody note next to me saying he’d tried to rape me. Haven’t really tried again since.”

“I’m sorry,” is all Willow can say. Then, softly, “I wish my memory had gaps.” She shakes her head violently, and points up ahead. “His office is up here. I’d appreciate it if you kept the physical destruction to a minimum since I live here too, but do what you like with his computers. Just bring me the bottle of scotch from his desk drawer.”

She waits outside the office door, leaning against the wall and staring absentmindedly up at the far corner of the ceiling. Sienna disappears inside, and Willow closes her eyes for what feels like just a moment. 

Evidently it’s longer than that, as she opens them again at the sound of footsteps to find Jacques has appeared from somewhere down the long hallway. The scowl he wears is worse than usual as he comes to a halt in front of her. 

“What are you doing?” he demands. 

Willow shows him only the same tired expression she’s had since leaving Weiss at the storeroom. “Safeguarding your office?” she says before breaking eye contact to stare at the far wall again. “Did you know Sienna Khan is here? I’m keeping her out.” 

The slight note of doubt in her voice is gone now, lies masked beneath years of practice keeping her various children out of harm’s way. It will work again. It always has. 

_ “What?” _ Jacques’s fury intensifies, and his face skips over the first few shades of red. “Breaking in while the military keeps me occupied with their reported bomb threats. I swear, if I find out they’re working together to sabotage me…”

He scowls at the door for a moment, but pauses as he puts a hand on the knob. “Thank you for the warning,” he manages to get out. “Now make sure Whitley is safe.”

Willow steps away from the wall as if to obey, but turns around. She takes a deep breath and raises two fingers to point just over Jacques’s head. Just like she’d practiced, so long ago. 

He pushes the door open, and a white glyph the full width of the doorframe appears over him. Before Jacques can take a single step into his office, the glyph slams downward and pins him face down on the floor. In the space where he had stood just an instant before, a dart flies out and bursts against the far wall with a crackle of electricity. 

Jacques gets a brief glimpse of a pair of black shoes with red cords looped around them as they step forward and walk across the glyph that holds him. But the barrier holds tight and no amount of squirming can free him, even as Willow and the intruder walk away. 

“Good work there, though a different lie might have been better,” Sienna says once they’re out of earshot. ”I got what I wanted. You  _ sure _ you want to leave him alive?”

Willow sighs and holds out a hand. “Just pass me the bottle.”

* * *

The room is empty.

_ Weiss’s _ room is empty. Not of furnishings—her bed, her dressers, and everything else are there and in place as they should be—but of Weiss herself. There’s no sign of Qrow’s niece either, but while the man in question freezes in the doorway, Winter steps inside.

“Weiss?” She calls, cupping her hands around her mouth. No answer. “Weiss, it’s me, Winter.”

Still no answer. Weiss would have answered the first time. Even so, Winter looks around. She strides over to the closet and opens it. Weiss is not in the closet.

Weiss is not in the closet in any sense of the phrase these days, she suspects, but Weiss is  _ certainly _ not in this particular closet right now. And neither is Yang.

“Where are they?” Winter asks. She turns on her heel and fixes Qrow with a glare.

“You think  _ I _ know?” Qrow says in return. “They should be here. They  _ have _ to be here, they were here two days ago.  _ I _ was here two days ago. He can’t have just…”

“He could have. I hope for your sake that he hasn’t yet had the chance, and they’ve just been moved.”

Qrow glares back and says nothing. Clover clears his throat awkwardly.

“I’m sure that both your niece,” he looks pointedly at Qrow, “and your sister, are fine. We have plenty of time to find out where they are. Winter, is there anyone besides Jacques who would know where they are?”

“We are  _ not _ asking Whitley,” Winter says firmly. “My mother… might. I might know where to find her.”

“That’s a good enough place to start. Qrow, try texting them, ask where they are, alright?”

“Yeah.” Qrow already has his scroll out and half a message typed out. “I’m on it.”

* * *

“How do you know my daughter?” Willow asks, and passes the bottle of scotch back across the table to her new friend. 

“Weiss? Never met her before today.” Sienna takes a swig and sets the bottle back down. “I knew her teammate Blake years ago. Met up with her and Yang shortly before we all came to Atlas. They helped me fight a dangerous rogue agent from the White Fang – who apparently survived his drop off a cliff and followed us. I called Yang to let her know, she asked for help getting out of this place…”

Sienna looks around at the beautiful glass-roofed garden courtyard. “And so here I am. Never much liked Jacques Schnee anyway, so I figured I could make it a two for one mission.”

“I hope they’ve gotten out okay.” 

“I’m sure they’re fine. They didn’t really need help.” Sienna pauses a moment. “You won’t be hurt if the SDC suddenly sees a rash of sabotage incidents, right? I got a lot of confidential data off that computer.”

Willow stares down at the table. “Let the White Fang do it all. It will be worth it.” She picks up the bottle again and takes a long drink. 

“If you’re sure. I can–” Sienna glances up suddenly as movement registers through the windows on the far side of the courtyard. “Shit. Military personnel.”

Willow turns around in her seat to look. “Yes, Winter came by along with Yang’s uncle–” But Sienna isn’t listening. By the time Willow turns back, she’s already pulled a ring with a large ruby set into it out of some interior pocket, and she flips the gem up to reveal a compartment beneath. 

Sienna grabs the scotch bottle and empties a small amount of white powder into it from the ring, and swirls it around. “Don’t drink from this again,” she warns. “Since you told Jacques I’m here, your cover story will be that you lured me into a false sense of security and then poisoned me. No one will blame you, I’m well known and have a criminal record a mile long.”

She snaps the gem back into her ring and passes it across the table to Willow. “Just get rid of them and I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m fine, I promise.” Sienna’s aura flares yellow-brown for just an instant. 

Before Willow can object, she grabs the bottle and drains half the remaining contents in one gulp. Within seconds, her brown skin starts flushing noticeably red and her eyes flutter rapidly open and shut. She reaches out to knock the poisoned bottle off the table, and then her hand falls as her body goes limp. A few light spasms shoot across her body and Sienna falls off the side of her chair, and lays unmoving on the grass with foam leaking from her mouth. 

And not a moment too soon, as Winter Schnee notices her mother out in the garden and leads her two companions to ask about the whereabouts of Weiss and Yang. 

“What the hell happened here?” It’s Qrow who manages to get the question out first. 

“I, um…” Willow is just as stunned as her three visitors. “Sienna Khan broke in. She… thought I was harmless.”

“Clearly that was a mistake.”

Winter kneels and puts two fingers to Sienna’s neck. “She’s definitely dead,” she pronounces. “Clover, update the records.”

Clover pulls out his scroll and begins typing on it, only for Qrow to speak up again. “Wait… didn’t Sienna Khan die months ago? News wouldn’t have made it here, but…” He shakes his head. 

“She’s racked up a sizable bounty in the past five years,” Clover observes. “Nearly a hundred thousand lien. There will be some paperwork, but… Good job, Mrs. Schnee.”

“I’ll set up a separate account,” Winter declares. “Not a word to Jacques.” 

“Just… find Weiss.” These three are really not helping Willow’s stress level at the moment, but she manages to point them back on track. She was told to get rid of them… assuming Sienna somehow isn’t really dead. “I don’t care about the rest. Just get her and her friend out of here. I left them at the east side storerooms.”

“Right.” Clover pockets his scroll. 

Before the group leaves, Winter takes notice of the ring Willow is nervously turning over between her fingers. “Since when do you have a poison ring? That is how you delivered the cyanide, right?” Her companions step back and wave for her to join them, but Winter stays a moment longer and shrugs. “Call me if you need help disposing of Father’s body.”

“Come on, Ice Queen, your sister’s got to be around somewhere.”

Winter visibly scowls. “Don’t you have better things to do then call me that? Like, I don’t know,  _ finding my sister and your niece? _ ”

Clover looks at Qrow, then looks at Winter, and remarks, “That worked a lot better than I thought it would.”

Winter looks like she wants to say something, but eventually thinks better of it. With one last nod at her mother, she goes to join the others, and then Willow Schnee is left alone with a corpse.

A corpse that, as soon as the three are gone, speaks softly from beside the table. “Tell me when they’re out of sight.”

“They’ve gone inside.”

Sienna stands up and returns to her seat as if nothing ever happened. “That wore off too soon,” she grumbles. “I woke up around the time your other daughter was suggesting you murder Jacques. It’s a good idea. Keep the ring, if you like.”

Willow is still mostly speechless as she stares across at Sienna. “How did you do that? Winter confirmed you were dead.”

“I am  _ very _ good at faking it. A while ago I was even stabbed by someone fully intending to kill me, and he thought he had… until I showed up again perfectly well and ready to give him a taste of the same. Although, that reminds me, he’s still out there and I probably shouldn’t be hanging around the Schnee Manor any longer than I have to.”

Sienna stands. “I’ll see myself out. Unless you’d like to come with me?”

Willow shakes her head solemnly. “I have to do what I can for Whitley. But…”

“Take my contact.” Sienna whips out a scroll. “I broke in here for a rescue mission once. I can do it again.”

* * *

“This way. Quickly now. Let’s not get seen before we make it to the fence.” The masked woman hurries Weiss and Yang onward across the Schnee manor’s wide lawn. 

“We’re coming,” Weiss says, though she’s struggling a little to keep up with their rescuer’s near run. “Are you really…  _ that _ Little Duck? The famous thief?”

“That’s me.”

“And you… know our friends?”

“Yep. Can’t  _ believe _ I’m rescuing a Schnee, but somehow they talked me into it.” 

Yang laughs. “Ruby’s speeches can do that.”

Little Duck doesn’t acknowledge that. “Come on,” she says. “Hole’s right here.” She pushes at the chain link fence and a section swings aside, big enough to pass through without a tight squeeze. 

And just like that, they’re free. They’re off of Jacques Schnee’s property. And with luck, they’ll  _ never _ have to set foot there again except maybe for his funeral. 

There’s another woman in a dark hood waiting by a vehicle parked on the street. She waves as the three approach, and moves over to the passenger side. 

“This is Eudico,” Little Duck introduces her. “More importantly, this is my car, and it’s our ticket out of here. I’m driving, so Eudi can fill you in. You’ll want seatbelts.”

“Hello there,” Eudico says, and holds out a hand. No, not a hand. She has bear paws. Weiss and Yang shake it anyway and climb into the back seat. 

“So our friends are down in Mantle?” Weiss asks. “How are we getting down this late at night?”

Eudico sighs deeply. “Yeah, good on you for thinking of that, ‘cause I sure didn’t until we were almost here.”

“You kids are huntresses in training, right?” Little Duck asks. “You’ve got landing strategies?”

Weiss glares at the back of the seat in front of her. “You can  _ not _ be serious.”

“She’s not,” Eudico quickly explains. “LD’s taking us to meet Biz, one of our other members. Then she’ll take the car back and spend the night at her safehouse up here, while Biz carries us to Mantle in the airship he  _ somehow _ has. Void only knows where he got the thing – or who it really belongs to – but it’s ours for the night.”

“Doesn’t matter as long as it works,” Yang comments. 

Beside her Weiss picks at the seat and comes away with a few short white hairs. She stares up at Eudico in the front passenger seat, tries to recall the glimpse of Little Duck’s face she’d gotten in the house… Neither of them have white hair. 

“Do you… have a cat, or something?” It certainly feels like cat hair between her fingers. 

LD takes her eyes off the road to glare back through the rearview mirror. “Nope.”

“A… friend who has one?”

The glare intensifies. “You do know we’re faunus, right?”

Now Yang is just as confused. “Yeah, but, a bear and a duck?”

“Nobody ever said I was a  _ duck _ faunus.”

Seeing the girls’ confusion, Eudico bursts out laughing. “Little Duck not being a duck is honestly one of the old Vox’s best-kept secrets. You would not believe the number of betting rings we ran into, people guessing what duck trait she had. All of them wrong.”

She stops momentarily, almost doubled over in the front seat. “She’s a cat burglar! Cat fur everywhere except the face, hands, and feet. And it’s  _ white!” _

“Yep, very funny, you want to tell them  _ all _ my secrets while you’re at it?”

“Just that one. In my defense, you started to tell them.”

LD audibly sighs. “That I did.”

“That sounds pretty hot,” Yang says. Weiss elbows her. “Hey! What was that for?”

Either fortunately or unfortunately for Yang, LD completely misinterprets what she meant, and audibly groans. 

“Like you would not  _ believe _ ,” Little Duck says miserably. “I have to cover up practically head to toe or I’ll get recognized. And I love my fur, don’t get me wrong, but it’s really,  _ really _ hot. And then people ask me if I’m  _ cold _ , because it doesn’t look like I’m wearing that much. Winter’s better. The season, not the person,  _ she’s _ got a stick up her—”

“Eyes on the road!” Eudico shouts suddenly.

LD swears under her breath and swerves. “Okay, you  _ may _ have a point there. A small one. Eyes on the road, fine, I don’t know  _ why _ you think I can’t talk and drive.”

“If… you don’t mind me asking,” Weiss says carefully, choosing not to comment on the mention of her sister, “your hair’s black, isn’t it? On your head?”

“Yep.”

“But your cat fur is… white?”

“Yep.”

“How is that possible?”

“Well, I  _ could _ have dyed it. But also, hair from faunus traits can be different-colored. Take Eudi here for example.”

Eudico waves weakly and says, more to LD, “Please don’t crash.”

“Her regular hair’s red. Paws have brown fur on the back of ‘em. You mean cats specifically, I know a kid with blonde hair and red-orange cat ears. Your friend’s definitely in the minority with ears and hair both black.”

“Oh,” Weiss says after a moment. “I… will keep that in mind?”

“Cool. You do that. Everyone, hold on tight!”

The car peels to a stop fast enough to throw everyone against their seatbelts. Little Duck says, just a little bit late, “And we’re here. How’s that for a quick getaway, Eudi?”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into that,” Eudico says in return.

“Taking that as a  _ yes, LD, you were super fast and we should do this again sometime!” _

“Void,  _ no. _ ”

* * *

“Where  _ are _ they? They weren’t in Weiss’s room like we arranged. Willow took them somewhere and then  _ left. _ What’s happening?”

“Qrow, calm down. We’ll find them.” Clover’s words do little to lessen his worry. 

Qrow balls his hands into fists as he walks. “Why haven’t we heard if there’s a change of plans? Oh, I should have just practiced carrying people as a bird and taken them out one at a time. None of this would have happened, but no, now we’ve  _ lost my nieces!” _

“Qrow, quiet.” Winter’s command does even less to help. “Mother said she took them to the storerooms. She just got ahead of us on retrieving their weapons, that’s all.”

“Then we’d better find them there.”

“I’m sure we will. Those rooms are a mess, it will take ages for them to locate anything. But right now you need to be  _ quiet. _ We’re about to pass by my father’s office, and–”

_ “Winter!” _

Oh no. He’s already here. 

“This is a new low even for you and your precious General,” Jacques sneers from his office door. “The military, working with terrorists to bring down the very backbone of this kingdom’s economy!”

Clover positions himself at the front of the group. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” he says. “What exactly are you accusing us of? We’re here to investigate a threat on your life.” 

“You’re helping Vox Faunus. It’s all becoming clear now. Ironwood has been behind it the whole time, because I’m a threat to his unilateral control over the Council.” 

Clover and Winter exchange glances, but let Jacques continue his rant uninterrupted. 

“I silenced those slanderous transmissions years ago. Who has the resources to replicate them so perfectly now? Only the military! Who’s been trying to sabotage my Council run since it began? The military! And since you’ve failed so far, you decided to launch a dangerous – dare I say,  _ treasonous _ – project in my mines. The  _ military _ comes to my front door to distract me while  _ Sienna Khan herself _ breaks in the back.”

Jacques looks like he wants to spit at Clover’s feet, and only doesn’t because it would be on his own floor. “I’m surprised she’d even work with the likes of you. Unless your betrayal really runs that deep?”

“Good luck proving any of it,” Qrow speaks up. “Since, you know, it’s not true.”

“Oh, you can be sure I will. Ironwood has just given me a whole new rope to hang him with.”

Qrow feels a buzz in his pocket and steps back behind Clover and Winter. There’s one message for him – from Yang.  _ “We’re out. Got weapons. On our way to Ruby, Blake, and Nora now.” _

He sends back a single unaccompanied question mark.

_ “You’re late. Not the only rescue tonight.” _ A moment later another message comes in after it.  _ “Message for Winter. Little Duck says hi.” _

Qrow shows his scroll’s screen to Clover. “B squad says they found and disabled an explosive device on the east end,” he says, more for Jacques than anyone else. There is no B squad, and hopefully Clover will realize that. 

“And we already took care of the two in the west,” Clover picks up effortlessly. “Alright team, let’s move out. Looks like everyone is safe and secure again.”

Clover gives Jacques a nod, then leads the way onward toward the nonexistent B squad. Once they’re out of sight, Winter can take them to an unwatched exit. And then, apparently, it’s mission complete. 

Even though they never once saw the people they were supposed to be rescuing. 

* * *

Ruby has never been one to sit still. And yet, ironically, she’s sitting relatively still when the door’s unlocked from outside and opened. Then she leaps to her feet.

“Weiss!” she exclaims, and in a flurry of rose petals she’s traveled from one end of the room to the door, tackling her teammate in a hug. The only thing that keeps them both from hitting the ground is Yang, standing right behind Weiss with the biggest grin Ruby’s ever seen on her.

“Hi, Ruby,” Weiss says weakly. “Good to see you too.”

“Aw, no hugs for big sis?” Yang teases.

Ruby blows her a raspberry, then grabs both of them by the hands and drags them in. “Blake! They’re here!”

“I never would have guessed,” Blake says dryly, but she’s grinning too. She gets up, the four teammates embrace, and Team RWBY is finally –  _ finally _ – back together again.

“Gods, I missed you  _ so much, _ we were so worried!”

“Well, we’re here now,” Weiss says. She looks around. “You know, the last place I expected to find you was here. Or even somewhere  _ like _ here. Even after we heard you were with Vox I was expecting some kind of… secret base or something.”

“That would be LD’s thing,” Eudico says as she steps in behind them. “Or Biz’s. Honestly I wouldn’t put it past either of them to have some sort of secret lair. Where’s Ticker and Sparky?”

As if on cue, both Ticker and Nora appear in a flash of pink sparkles. Nora’s eyes go wide. She immediately leaps into the group hug herself.

“Forgot something at my place, Sparky wanted to come,” Ticker says with a shrug. “Hey, Eudi! Guessing everything went… pretty well?”

“Actually, it went so well I spent the whole trip back waiting for something to go wrong.”

Ticker grins. In another flurry of sparkles, she’s beside Eudico, and she’s slung an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Well I, for one, am  _ very _ glad it didn’t!”

“Um. Yeah. Me too.”

Eudico’s scroll buzzes, and she quickly detaches herself from Ticker to check it. “Biz went home, wishes us all the best. Surprised he dealt with the airship that fast.”

“Eh, he’s Biz, he has his ways.” Ticker shrugs, then heads over to the group. As the embrace ends, somewhat—Weiss and Ruby are still holding each other’s hands, as are Blake and Yang—she holds out a hand. “So, nice to meet you two, finally! I’m Ticker. Got any embarrassing stories to tell me?”

Blake makes a choking noise. Ruby sniggers.

“Absolutely not!” Weiss says. “And if we did, we wouldn’t tell—”

“So do you want to hear about the time Ruby discovered her semblance, or the time I got Blake’s attention with a laser pointer?” Yang asks.

Nora grins. “Please, you make it sound like your team was the only one with shenanigans! Team Juniper had at  _ least _ as much. We have  _ Jaune. _ ”

“I see your point, but that’s still  _ just _ team shenanigans. Team RWBY has a whole other layer:  _ we _ would all happily kiss each other.”

Weiss turns slightly red, and grips Ruby’s hand tighter. Ruby looks at her, then at Yang, then at Blake. Blake shrugs, confused.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asks her partner. 

“I—yeah, I’m fine,” Weiss smiles. “Don’t worry, it’s just—well, um…”

The door opens again. It can’t be Little Duck, she’s still up in Atlas. It can’t be Biz, because he went home. Nobody else should be coming here, not at this hour of the night.

That makes it even more of a surprise when a sing-song voice calls in, “Weapon delivery fairy!”

It’s  _ Tyrian. _ With a bulging, oddly-shaped sack hanging over his shoulder. The hand Ruby is holding tenses, and Weiss’s free hand immediately goes to Myrtenaster.

_ “You,” _ Yang hisses.

“Yang, Weiss, it’s not—” Ruby sighs. “This is… someone we are calling… Callow Tock. He’s joined Vox just like us.”

Blake looks at them both and mouths the words,  _ yes it really is him _ . 

“I’m sorry,” Tyrian says. “Have we met?”

“Nope,” Yang pops the P. “Don’t worry about it. What are you doing here?”

“No, really, what are you doing here?” Eudico asks. “And what’s in that bag? Please tell me you didn’t kill any more enforcers.”

“Well, you see, I was thinking. There’s so,  _ so _ much bad blood between you all and my apparent lookalike, and I wanted to do something to try and mend that. So,” he reaches into the bag and pulls out… Crescent Rose. Ruby’s heart stops. “I do believe this is yours?”

Ruby lets go of Weiss’s hand just long enough to dart forward and snatch it. Then she takes Weiss’s hand again, and fails to conceal a glare in his direction.

“And yours,” Tyrian gives Blake her weapon, “and yours.” The sack appears to be empty now, and Tyrian rolls it up and stuffs it under his arm. “Merely a gesture of goodwill, you see! I had  _ intended _ to give them to my dear cousin here, but she was not at home! So, I came here.”

Ticker laughs nervously. “Yeah, sorry about that, would have left a note but. Well. Obviously that’s a terrible idea.”

“Of course! You’re welcome for your weapons.” Tyrian bows, though not very low, and turns to leave.

“Wait.” All eyes go to Blake. “How did you know which weapons were ours?”

“Why, of  _ course _ they were yours! Who else’s would they be? Would a ruby-red scythe belong to anyone other than this little rose?”

Ruby glares at him. “It could belong to anyone, you never know!”

“Well, I did know.” Tyrian smiles, a tad smugly and the rest that unsettling smile she remembers… far,  _ far _ too well. “It wasn’t hard. They had tags with your names on them. Now, if there’s nothing else you need—”

“There was a—” Ruby stops herself. “That… wasn’t everything we had. Did you…?”

“See anything else? I’m afraid not. Your weapons were the only things marked, after all.”

If he’s lying, Salem probably has the lamp now. If not, maybe Tyrian just didn’t see it, but Ruby is pretty sure she knows which option it was. But, on the off chance the lamp  _ wasn’t _ just stolen—if it’s still sitting in an SDC warehouse somewhere—she can’t exactly ask.

“Hey, Callow,” Eudico says, “good work today. That’s the kind of thing Vox needs, so keep it up. See you at work tomorrow?”

“Of course, you can count on me!”

Coming from anyone else, those words would be comforting. Coming from Tyrian, whatever name he’s going by? That statement is  _ terrifying. _

But it’ll be okay. Team RWBY is back together now, and together, they can face anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, Soul here, just wanted to mention that after this ~~chapter~~ episode we'll be having another character short, and then the episode numberings will be starting over again from 1. This is still technically one big rewrite of Volume 7, we just thought it would probably work a bit better splitting things up. Kind of. 
> 
> Don't worry about it, it's just some housekeeping changes for the sake of our own organization.
> 
> Thanks for reading, leave us a comment if ya liked it, we really, _really_ like getting comments. <3
> 
> Hi, Flame here, yes this is the end of Part One if you want to think of it like that. We anticipate three Parts total. Neither of us much feels like writing out more volume-intro songs and "animation", so just consider it a mid-volume break. Except without the actual break, because we sure aren't putting the writing on hold for anything. 
> 
> It really is just for our own organization. Mostly mine, because the chapter and episode numbers being two off from each other was bothering me. Now we can abandon any pretense of matching the two together, after this nice convenient thematically-appropriate break point. 
> 
> Also yes, please comment. We do love comments.


	14. Character Short: Arthur Watts

The first time he meets Jacques Schnee is technically on business. Realistically, it’s an attempt on the government’s part to court the dust tycoon’s favor. Time will tell whether or not this attempt is successful, but Arthur  _ strongly _ suspects this will go much like the last several.

Still, he shouldn’t complain too much about being torn away from his work. It isn’t often one gets to mingle with Atlesian high society, particularly on the government’s lien. The refreshments are, of course, always the highest quality, and there are worse people to be dragged along with as a plus one than the newly appointed headmaster of Atlas Academy.

Then again, who is he to  _ not _ complain about being torn away from his work, at least a little? He does have appearances to keep up, after all.

“I  _ know _ you don’t hate this as much as you’re pretending to,” James mutters. The headmaster and the scientist weave through the crowd, looking for the man of the hour. 

Arthur hums a very,  _ very _ reluctant agreement. “I would  _ much _ prefer if we  _ weren’t _ wasting our time here.”

“You and me both, believe me. Nothing I say seems to get through to him!”

“You are a bit…” Arthur waves a hand. “You know.”

“What?”

“Belligerent. Stubborn. Unwilling to take no for an answer. All well and good, in open combat, but this? This is business. The art of give-and-take, the art of making a deal amenable enough to  _ both _ sides that they each are willing to take it.” He sips from a glass of champagne in his other hand, fixes James with a glare, and adds, “And  _ not _ unnecessarily angering the person you are  _ trying _ to reach an agreement with.”

“Alright,  _ fine _ , so I  _ may _ have said some things I maybe shouldn’t have. But you would too!”

“Would I?”

James groans. “If you want to give him a go this time, be my guest. Maybe you’ll get somewhere with him, and—good evening, Mrs. Schnee.”

“Good evening, Headmaster Ironwood,” Willow Schnee says with a slight nod of her head. “I suppose you wish to speak with my husband?”

One of her daughters looks far more interested in the rest of the party than staying with her mother, which is undoubtedly why Willow is holding that daughter’s hand in her own. The other is a baby, sleeping contentedly in the embrace of her mother’s free arm.

“Actually,” Arthur says before James can put his foot in his mouth  _ again, _ “I’ll be speaking with Mr. Schnee tonight, if you don’t mind having the headmaster’s company instead of mine.”

Otherwise, it would be the same song and dance Arthur is unfortunately familiar with. James goes off to unsuccessfully speak with Jacques Schnee himself, Arthur lasts as long as he can making awkward small talk and eventually excuses himself to find his ride.

“Of… course not?” Willow looks a little confused, but doesn’t say as much herself. “Here he is now.”

Arthur turns before James can, and extends a hand. “Good evening, Mr. Schnee. My name is Dr. Arthur Watts.”

Jacques Schnee eyes him briefly, sizing him up before he takes it and shakes it firmly. “You already know who I am. What can I do for you?”

* * *

Science is not, in itself, good or evil. Science is a tool like any other, and it can certainly be  _ used _ in a way that is good or evil. That, however, is not the place of the scientist to consider. The scientist only creates, and what comes after is not his to worry about.

There are some who say it  _ should _ be the place of the scientist to consider how their work will be used. Doctor Watts is not among them. After all, ethics oversight boards have to earn their keep  _ somehow. _ His job is to determine what  _ can _ be done, not what  _ should. _

“That’s it, then,” Dr. Perintol says with a shrug. “There’s not much more we can do, at this point.”

“No,” Dr. Palladino agrees. She adjusts her glasses, picks up her clipboard again, and says, “Theoretically, it  _ should _ work on a human or faunus test subject as well, if it works on the auras of animals.”

“But we can’t ask the animals questions,” Arthur argues. “We have no way of  _ really _ knowing what happens. The aura of one animal is transferred to another, yes—but what happens to the first? How does the second feel afterward?”

In one side of the transference chamber, a single white rabbit snuffles about curiously, having forgotten the pain of the transfer. Evidently that does not linger. In the other, an identical rabbit lies motionless, devoid of life.

“This isn’t the kind of thing we can test, Arthur,” Dr. Polendina says quietly. “Not without a willing participant, and considering how confidential this research is? The only way we’d find a volunteer would be if it was one of us.”

“Maybe you’d like to do it? Become part rabbit?”

Dr. Polendina silently shakes his head. 

“As far as we’re concerned,” Dr. Savah cuts in, “our work here is complete. The transfer of aura should work with  _ anything _ that has aura.”

“I’m sure we’ll find out if it doesn’t.”

The group of scientists exchange uncomfortable glances. As much as Arthur would like to delve into science alone without a care for the world outside, he  _ has _ sometimes wondered why the military was so insistent on developing this exact piece of technology. But still no one touches the elephant in the room.

“I’ll get in touch with the General,” Dr. Palladino says at last. “Let him know it’s complete and passes every test we can think of, then see if there’s anything else he wants us working on. Shouldn’t take too long—I’ll meet you all afterwards. Usual place, usual time?”

Perhaps the other three  _ do _ meet Dr. Palladino. Arthur does not go. Instead, he takes a long walk back home, and thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. The military has no interest in animals. Even with aura, they can’t be trained as soldiers. And that means the intended use is on humans. 

The team will only be told if the machine doesn’t work, that he is certain of. If it does work as intended, the results will be well above even their security clearance. 

There are many,  _ many _ possibilities for transference technology, many doors that might potentially be opened. However, very few of those doors are not, at  _ best, _ morally questionable.

But that’s none of Arthur’s business. Science itself, finding those doors and unlocking them, is morally neutral. What doesn’t sit right with him is that the military wants to cut him out of the loop – to say this much progress is enough, and not even tell him which doors they’ve stepped through. 

Clearly something will have to be done. A good scientist never gives up. 

* * *

The P.E.N.N.Y. Project this, the P.E.N.N.Y. Project that, if Arthur has to hear one more  _ word _ about Perintol and Polendina’s race to build a robotic child he is  _ going _ to lose his mind. The project is, he’ll admit,  _ very _ creative. Too creative. Creativity is never appreciated in the military, except when it comes from  _ those two _ apparently, because that’s just how Arthur’s life works these days!

He is so close. So,  _ so _ close. But it doesn’t even  _ matter _ because everyone’s too busy fawning over a little android girl with bright green eyes and a cowlick. Polendina could have  _ at least _ not put his creation in the body of a  _ child. _ He knows, he  _ must _ know what it is his so-called daughter will be used for even if he succeeds.

Which he won’t. He can’t. Not now that Arthur is so very close to success.

As he often does when he’s feeling… conflicted, he’s taking a walk. Thanks to the oh so benevolent General Ironwood, the streets of Atlas are perhaps the safest in the world. Even, perhaps especially, at night.

If they weren’t, it still wouldn’t keep Arthur from his walks. These days, he prefers being alone to the stares, the whispers of him being a sore loser. As  _ if. _ He’s the only person who  _ isn’t _ blinded by the robot masquerading as an innocent little girl.

“Dr. Arthur Watts.”

The streets are normally deserted. They aren’t now, not anymore, and time will tell why. Arthur turns to see a tall, greying man in a dark overcoat. His hands are clasped behind his back, an unsettling grin is on his face, and as his brown eyes meet Arthur’s, he starts to walk forward again.

“Who are you,” Arthur asks carefully. “How do you know my name?”

A hand goes to the revolver he keeps on him for self-defense, an intricately made one that really was never intended for actual combat. But he made it work. He’ll make this work too.

“Oh,  _ my _ name is Caliban Garnet. But that matters not. What matters here is  _ you.” _

“Don’t come any closer.”

Caliban tsks, but stops in his tracks. “Very well.”

“Now,  _ how do you know my name?” _

“Who  _ doesn’t _ know your name? You are, after all, the finest mind in Atlas.”

“Not anymore. Go away.”

“That, I am afraid, I cannot do.” Caliban, predictably, does not go away. “You are correct. You are  _ not _ the finest mind in Atlas. Not according to your superiors, not anymore. But you should be.  _ You _ should be the one—”

“Who sent you?” Arthur asks tersely. “And what do you want?”

“Have you ever wondered, why?  _ Why _ does the General keep so many secrets? What is he hiding? Why, I wonder, would he and his predecessor hire you to build a machine that can suck someone’s very soul out of their body and cram it directly into another?”

“I haven’t wondered.” But he has. Five years since the machine was completed, and he’s wondered every day. 

Caliban tsks again. “You’re not a very good liar. Not under pressure, at least. We’ll have to work on that.”

_ “We _ won’t be working on  _ anything.” _

“Won’t we? You don’t  _ want _ to know the truth? What everyone’s hidden from you?”

“Tell me one thing, then,” Arthur demands. “One thing that ‘everyone’ is hiding from me, and I’ll consider the possibility that you  _ aren’t _ just mouthing off, trying to convince me to…”

“To do what?” Caliban finishes for him. “You don’t know, do you? The kingdoms of the world are, after all, in a time of  _ unprecedented _ peace. And yet General Ironwood continues to build up his military. You’ve been asking yourself.  _ Everyone’s _ been asking themselves. Just  _ who _ does he intend to fight?”

“That’s none of my business.”

“If you say so. I’ll tell you this tidbit for free: it’s not Vale, or Mistral, or Vacuo. It’s not Menagerie or Mantle.”

“Then who?”

“He intends to fight… me.” Caliban’s grin widens. “Or rather, the one I work for. Wouldn’t you love to be a part of the group that finally takes him down?”

Arthur should say no, plain and simple. He  _ should _ just shoot Caliban and run, and demand answers from Ironwood. Except… he wouldn’t give them, would he? He never would.

Caliban’s right about how much Ironwood is hiding. There’s a lot of things Arthur would personally  _ love _ to know. Such as where all the gravity dust holding Atlas in the sky came from, because that is always, conspicuously, missing from the records. Or what  _ really _ happened in the attack that killed the previous general and, somehow, put the  _ Headmaster of Atlas Academy _ in charge.

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur says, which is far more than he should be giving him. He shouldn’t be giving Caliban anything at all. And yet…

“You do that,” Caliban says with a nod. He fishes a business card out of his overcoat, passes it to Arthur. It’s blank, save for a single scroll number. “Do  _ try _ not to take too long.”

Arthur makes his escape shortly after that. He means to throw the card in the trash as soon as he gets home. He means to do a lot of things, but he does none of them. Almost as soon as he steps in the door, he gets a text that changes everything.

_ Dr. Polendina has done it. _

Arthur’s eyes narrow. He swipes that text away, and types out a new one to a new number.

_ I’m in, _ it reads.

* * *

“Day 17,” Watts says into his recorder. “The new test subjects have finally arrived, and with them, the experiment can begin. Ironically, I’m still testing with rabbits. At least these are the interesting kind.”

Two of them are sedated, laying in an aura transference machine already. They have no idea what it  _ is _ , of course, or what it does, or where the other five currently are.

“Ideally, I  _ should _ do more preliminary testing first,” he continues, “but this transference machine was built to the same specifications my—our original one was, and we had already completed preliminary testing. It’s time to move on, and if this first experiment fails, it’s not like I don’t have spares.”

He smiles to himself, a cruel inside joke, as he flips the switch. “Initiating aura transference now.”

When the transfer is finished, it appears to be a success. One rabbit is awake and curled up as much as it can be in the machine, likely from pain. Not a problem here, though it may be worth looking into if he ever  _ does _ get his hands on Pietro’s mythical willing human subjects. Which is very,  _ very _ unlikely.

The other rabbit is staring out with lifeless eyes.

“Stage one appears to be a success,” Watts tells the device, staring down at the swirling mix of blue and yellow over the test subject’s body. “Lucky you, getting to be on the receiving end. Or maybe unlucky, I don’t know. I suppose we’ll both find out soon enough.” 

* * *

Twenty years since he met Jacques Schnee for the first time.

Fifteen years since he built the first aura transference machine, with some help.

Ten years since he learned the truth about Ironwood, and first came in contact with Salem.

Five years since his last experiments as an Atlesian scientist, before his carefully engineered ‘death.’

And now, here he is, waiting in a darkened room somewhere in Mantle, lit only by a softly glowing blue lamp. The Relic of Knowledge, presumably. Unless Tyrian had stolen the wrong thing from that SDC vault. 

Sadly, he doesn’t know how it works, or else he would use it himself. Knowledge is, after all, what he devoted his life to so long ago. 

That’s almost certainly  _ why _ Salem didn’t tell him how to activate it, which is a perfectly logical move on her part. But he’s still going to be annoyed by it, and do his best to figure it out before she arrives to retrieve it from him.

Perhaps rubbing the lamp will do something?

Rubbing the lamp, unfortunately, does nothing. 

“Lamp,” he orders, “tell me something.”

The lamp, predictably, does nothing except glow the same blue it’s been glowing this entire time. 

Maybe if he holds a question in his mind and touches the lamp, the knowledge will magically come to him. 

It doesn’t. 

He sighs. He should have known it wouldn’t be this easy.

He has some time. He is, after all, the finest mind in Atlas, despite what his contemporaries thought of him near the end.


	15. Part 2 Episode 1: Still In One Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby meets someone unexpected. The Relic of Knowledge is delivered to Salem. Oscar, Jaune, and Ren train with Team FNKI, and the whole Tyrian situation is finally explained to Eudico. Somewhat. The Ozbot is, strangely, still not working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the beginning of Part 2! As you may have guessed from the second character short just before this. There will be three parts. It's still all Volume 7 though, even if a certain arrival has happened like eight canon episodes early.

Once more through the list. Bread, cheese, eggs, pancake batter for Nora, some kind of sliced sandwich meat, raw fish for Blake, more pancake batter for everyone else, milk, cereal, juice… 

Ruby hurries down the street from Eudico’s apartment toward the small grocery two blocks down the street. It’s late and everyone is tired after another long day in the mines, but they can’t keep giving all the physical labor to Nora forever. The lifting would be easier with Yang’s muscles and Weiss’s glyphs, but there’s no _way_ those two are going near the mines. Not when they’ve just been rescued from a different prison. 

As much as she’s happy to see her team reunited again, it’s been a little overwhelming too. Her sister is back, with all the smiles and puns that entails. Weiss is back too and that’s great, Ruby would love nothing more than to hug her teammate for a good hour or so. But then there’s Blake and Ruby loves her so much too, she loves all of them to the point that she’s felt like she’s about to cry just from how relieved she is that everyone’s here with her again. 

So naturally, the moment Eudico mentioned they needed more food for the new arrivals, Ruby volunteered. Alone. Yang had wanted to come with her, but the excuse that she should spend some time with Blake had worked. Ruby got out of there, and now _finally_ maybe things can calm down in her head for a little while. 

And in less pleasant news, there’s still the matter of Tyrian. Having him show up at the post-rescue party was _not fun_ to explain to Weiss and Yang. Especially when he came bearing gifts. Ruby is sure Eudico and the rest are suspicious of her and her friends. There’s clearly a history between them and this so-called Callow, and it might as well be time to tell Vox Faunus about it. Hopefully they’ll have some luck with that while she’s out, if Eudico will stop dodging the issue for once. 

Ruby passes by the side street halfway to the store and glances down it, but there is nothing but darkness between the tall buildings in Atlas’s shadow. She shakes her head and continues on. When did she get so paranoid? That’s right, when she was captured by corporate thugs within minutes of arriving in the kingdom. The brief texts she had been able to get from Jaune and Ren suggested General Ironwood was paranoid too. Maybe Atlas just had that effect on people. 

“Ruby Rose.” A voice sounds from behind her and Ruby whirls around, Crescent Rose unfolding in an instant. A single woman stands on the sidewalk with her hands up and empty, halted fifteen feet back from Ruby’s own position. She wears a fancy black velvet dress which sparkles like it’s full of stars, modified for the cold of Solitas with thick leggings underneath and an unzipped jacket to cover her arms. “Put that away,” she instructs. “I’m not here to fight, and you know you aren’t authorized to use weapons on the streets of Mantle.”

“Who are you?” Ruby doesn’t put her weapon away. 

The woman takes a few steps closer and a streetlamp illuminates her better than before, revealing thick white hair left untied, cascading to her waist and reminding Ruby very much of the sister she finally reunited with just yesterday. “Who I am isn’t important,” she says. “What matters is that I know who you are… and what you brought to this kingdom.” She taps the side of her waist as if indicating an object which might hang there. 

Ruby’s eyes narrow and she tightens her grip on her scythe. “You’re with _her.”_ She scans around her for avenues of escape, places to hide, objects that could be used as weapons. 

“You could say that.” The woman in black waves a hand toward a nearby table and chairs in front of a closed cafe, and moves to take a seat herself. “Come, sit. I only want to talk.” She keeps her hands in plain view above the table. 

“Fine.” Ruby folds Crescent Rose again and pulls out a chair, but keeps the weapon ready on her lap in case she needs it quickly. “Say what you want to say. And then go back and tell Salem that the next time she wants to talk, she should stop sending agents and come face me herself.” 

The woman regards her words with interest. “Is that so? Well… I think that can be arranged.” She sits up straight and lifts her hands to place them to either side behind her head, and a faint pinkish red glow surrounds her fingers. Her hair lifts away from her back and loops out and back to form a large disk, and the length left over splits into six parts to coil into spikes to either side. She holds it in place just long enough to see the shock and horror on Ruby’s face before the glow around her hands fades, and then her white hair falls back to hang straight once again. 

“You…”

“Me.” Salem smiles and leans back in her chair. “We finally see… _eye to eye,_ as it were, and suddenly you’re not so confident. Don’t try anything stupid, now. I can blind you faster than you can release that light.”

“You’re here in Mantle. Personally.” Ruby still can hardly believe it. Salem, right in front of her. No longer a far-off threat, not an abstraction, but a physical woman sitting across the table from her. 

“Some things require a delicate touch. Tyrian and W– and my other agent here, who you haven’t met yet… have their assignments already, but I can’t entrust everything to them. After all… two Relics in Atlas requires two plans to recover them.” Salem stares more intently into Ruby’s silver eyes. “And I _will_ have them, if not now, then eventually.”

“I won’t let you take either.”

“Maybe not, but you won’t live forever. Time is not on your side, Ruby. It’s _always_ been on mine.” Salem looks around at the dim, empty street for a moment, then back to Ruby. “The people of Remnant have suffered enough. Surrender the lamp to me, and they needn’t suffer any further.”

“No. The lamp showed us what you’re capable of. It showed us _everything.”_ Salem stiffens at Ruby’s words and her eyes narrow. “We’ve seen you can’t be killed,” Ruby continues. “But we don’t have to kill you to stop you. And we _will_ stop you.”

Salem’s face suddenly takes on a thoughtful look. “Stop me from doing _what?”_ she asks. 

Ruby, flustered, blinks rapidly. “I’m sorry?”

“Go on, tell me. What exactly do you think my goals are?”

“You want to destroy the Huntsman Academies and steal the Relics that are kept there.”

“Close, but you’re still missing a crucial part. Why?” Salem pauses to let Ruby answer, but no response comes. “Why do you think I do this? Am I like Tyrian, who kills merely for enjoyment? Am I like Cinder, who kills for personal power? Or am I perhaps like Hazel… who does not wish to kill, but does what he must to oppose Ozpin? Who carries out even the most distasteful tasks with unrelenting persistence?”

Ruby raises one eyebrow in skepticism of the witch’s implication. “From what we’ve seen, Cinder is the more accurate comparison. You want to gain power and conquer the world.”

Salem sighs. “I do want the power of the Relics, yes. Who wouldn’t? But that is secondary to a much more important task.” Ruby only gives her a questioning look. “The four Relics together possess a power far beyond the sum of their abilities alone. It is a dangerous power, one which I do _not_ wish to see unleashed. Right now Ozpin has access to all four Relics, as he has had for millennia. I only want to see him lose control of at least one – any one of them – so that he cannot unite them all at once.”

“The judgement day…”

Salem sits up straight again. “You already know? He told you?”

“The lamp told us. I asked, what is Ozpin hiding from us? There was a lot.” Ruby finally takes her hands off of Crescent Rose, and leans forward to rest her elbows on the table. “We know all about his past, and yours. We learned that you’re immortal, and why. We learned how the moon was broken, and why. We learned the origin of the Maidens.”

Salem’s eyes widen as Ruby speaks, but by the end the corners of her mouth are turning up into a smile. “I do not claim that my actions in modern times are not evil,” she says. “But if you know all that, then you should already see why they are a _necessary_ evil. Let me ask you something, Ruby Rose… in a choice between slavery and death, which would you prefer?”

“Neither. What–”

“Precisely.” Salem leans forward as well to mimic Ruby’s posture. “I’m glad we agree. There is always a third option. In this case, it is to avoid being asked the question. To simply keep the Relics separated forever, so that a judgement never comes. Clearly, that means getting them _away_ from the God of Light’s prime bootlicker, Ozma. And until such a time comes, the world must never be united in peace. Do you understand, Ruby?”

“I can see your logic,” Ruby says neutrally. “But that doesn’t excuse all the killing. All the destruction. I refuse to believe that’s the only way. What’s the _fourth_ option?”

Salem shrugs. “What’s done is done. You can either let it continue, or you can give me the lamp, and this can all be over.” She turns her head to gaze up in a wide arc at the street and the sky, and the constellations of hazard lights on the bottom side of Atlas far above them. She leans even closer, more than halfway across the small table. “I am _pleading_ with you, Ruby. If you want the destruction stopped, then _allow me_ to end it! Give me the Relic of Knowledge, and think of how many lives you could save!”

“I’m not giving you a Relic.” Ruby leans back and crosses her arms over her chest. “Your hand isn’t as forced as you claim. The Relics are scattered around the world and only the Maidens can access them. We haven’t seen Ozpin since we used the lamp. He got mad that we revealed his secrets and he locked himself away in Oscar’s head, and we don’t know if he’s ever coming back. Even if he does, that’s no guarantee he’ll try to call the gods back, now or ever. We were in a time of unprecedented peace before the Fall of Beacon, and he didn’t do it then. He might never, and all your killing won’t have accomplished a thing.”

“He _might_ never.” Salem sighs again, deeper, as she too rests back in her seat. “Ruby… The single quality that is common across every living creature on this planet is fear. Fear of loneliness, or of loss. Fear of rejection. Fear of failure, fear of helplessness. And the farther away those things seem, the greater power the fears of them can take on. I am not asking you to be proud of me, or to forgive me. I only wish for you to understand why I feel the need to do the things I do. 

“Because when I say every living creature on this planet, that includes myself. I am _afraid,_ Ruby. Of the gods. Once upon a time, I was a girl who desired but one thing: freedom. That is still what I desire, for myself and for everyone. The gods, and the man who could summon them, are the one and only threat to that freedom. This is who I have become, in the clutches of my own fear. My past self might barely recognize me, but so long as I do not possess a single Relic, I see no other choice but to carry on.

“I am prepared to offer you a deal, Ruby. A very good one for you. I will let you use all of the lamp’s questions yourself. I don’t need its power, I only need its presence. Use it to verify everything I’ve said tonight, if you wish. In addition, I am also willing to give you the power of a Maiden.”

Ruby’s eyes widen in shock, but she says nothing. 

“Winter would be the easiest. She’s been at death’s door for years – and through no fault of mine, this time. But it’s all the same on the receiving end. You should know, Cinder is alive, and she’s here in Atlas. And she’s rapidly becoming more trouble than she’s worth. She’s been ignoring me in favor of a quest for revenge… on you. I could wipe out that little problem for you, and make sure the Fall Maiden powers go to you as well. After all, power and the pursuit of it are not inherently evil. Think of what you could do to help the world, with magic at your command.”

“Cinder… is alive?” Ruby’s shock continues at the news. 

“She doesn’t have to be. I’m in the market for a replacement.”

“I wish my friends and I could be free of her, but we’ll deal with that ourselves. I’m still not giving you a Relic.” 

Salem shakes her head in disappointment. “You know, Ruby, there’s a reason I came to talk with _you,_ rather than with General Ironwood or Winter Schnee. Something I thought I knew, but let me ask in case I was wrong… Exactly where do your loyalties lie? With Ozpin? With your friends and family? With yourself? If all those came into conflict, which would you support over all others?”

“The people of Remnant.” Ruby answers clearly and without hesitation. 

“That’s what I expected. It’s why I thought you might be receptive to my offer. I too am working to protect the people of Remnant, in my own way.”

“That’s not a way I can work with. I can’t aid someone who kills so many, no matter how much you promise to stop. I don’t have the luxury of thinking in the extreme long term. My job is to protect life in the here and now. That’s what a Huntress is sworn to do, and a Huntress is what I am.”

“Not officially, you’re not.” Salem shrugs and pushes her chair back a few inches. “But I can admire someone who has principles and sticks to them, even if I think you’d do more good to let them slide this once.” 

She reaches into her jacket and draws out a scroll from an inside pocket, and mutters softly to the dark sky and the city of Atlas high above. “Thank you, Doctor. I may not fully understand this modern technology, but at least I can use the tools you give me.” She ignores Ruby for a moment as she taps at the scroll’s screen, activating one of the many backdoors Watts wrote into the Atlesian military network over his decades of working for them. Finally she slides the scroll shut again, and smiles. “There. By order of General Ironwood, you are now officially a licensed Huntress.”

Salem fishes around in her jacket pockets again and comes up with a second scroll, which she slides across the table as she stands. “Congratulations, Ruby Rose. I wish we could have come to a better arrangement, but it was very good to meet you in person nonetheless. Use that burner scroll if you ever need to speak to me again. I believe we both have a better idea now of who the other is, and what we both intend to do. And for now we shall simply… carry on.”

Ruby stands as well and picks up the scroll off the table, but before she can offer a parting handshake or even a goodbye, Salem turns and walks away. 

* * *

Watts is almost too absorbed in the mystery of the lamp to notice that the front door is being unlocked. The key word there, of course, is _almost_. It’s entirely possible that this is Tyrian, returning early from wherever it is he goes—almost _certainly_ to cause trouble with the animals of Vox—but Watts sincerely doubts that.

Which means this is Salem herself, and Watts’s time is up. With the lamp, that is. No matter. There is nothing he could have learned with the lamp that he can’t still learn without.

When Salem opens the door and steps inside, it’s to Watts reclining in a plush armchair, lamp floating serenely over one hand, and a smile hidden behind his mustache.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” he says with just a touch of smugness. “I believe this is what you’ve been looking for?”

“The Relic of Knowledge…” Salem breathes. She glides forward and the lamp floats out of Watts’s hand to rest over hers instead, where it pulses with blue and slowly rotates in the air. “Our first real step toward victory. Well done.”

“It was a joint effort with Tyrian, as you instructed. He should be back here later tonight, if you wish to speak with him.”

“I will.” Salem sits down and stares into the lamp’s light. 

“I’m afraid I have not yet figured out how to activate the device,” Watts says. “But if you wish, I will continue my attempts…” With luck, maybe he’ll be left alone with the Relic a while longer. 

But it is not to be. “I know how it works,” Salem tells him. “And its power is limited enough that experimentation would be unwise.”

She sets the lamp down over the small table between their seats. “You know,” she says, “I just got back from offering Ruby Rose a deal for this lamp. I suppose it’s a good thing she didn’t accept it.”

“Very good,” Watts agrees. Is that good? Probably. Doesn’t much matter to him. 

“Although… it doesn’t really hurt our position to keep my side of the bargain anyway. Especially given the job at Beacon is still not complete. I will have to think on this, but I suspect a change in strategy may be in order. Since this worked while previous plans all failed…”

“Tyrian and I still have plans for election night. Shall we continue?”

Salem nods. “Yes. A certain degree of unrest is still necessary. Following that…” She pauses, and looks up at the ceiling. “Investigate Amity. Find out what’s happening up there, and see if there’s a simpler way to halt it than slowing down the dust mines. Any ideas you and Tyrian had to recover the staff can also tentatively go ahead for now. I will be working on… a separate project.”

* * *

“Oscar, catch!”

Oscar ducks out of the way to grab his—Ozpin’s—cane out of the air. Not a moment too soon, either. Ivori’s back on the attack, and Neon’s been circling the arena this whole time, just _waiting_ for an opening with anyone.

“Thanks!” Oscar yells back to Jaune, but he can’t look at him. All he can do is block, and poke, and try to stay out of range of Ivori’s whip. Hopefully his teammates are doing better.

The joys of being on the smaller side of a 3v4, and one they _should_ be able to win easily. After all, Team FNKI hasn’t been out in the wilderness for a year.

Then again, Oscar Pine isn’t the original P in JNPR either, and Nora’s… well, they know she’s fine, just not _where_ she’s fine. And honestly? They could definitely use her. They’ve only got half of JNPR here and it’s showing.

Ren’s going toe-to-toe with Kobalt, and _winning_ but not by enough to come help Jaune or Oscar. Jaune’s keeping Flynt occupied, but it could easily be the other way around. Neon swoops in every time she has an opening in an attempt to bash someone over the head with a rainbow set of nunchucks.

And Oscar’s got to deal with Ivori. At least he has a weapon now. The cane has slightly, _slightly_ longer range than the whip, but there are some distinct disadvantages to being the youngest and smallest and one of them is: reach.

At least he’s not fighting Kobalt. Oscar is _pretty_ sure Kobalt could pick him up and toss him across the arena if he wanted to. And the worst part is he’d probably let him.

Oscar rolls to the side, dodging another swing of Ivori’s whip, and looks around. It’s entirely possible he _can’t_ beat Ivori. But if he can stall, he’ll take what he can get.

The next time Ivori tries to snare him with his whip, Oscar raises his arms as if to strike, runs in—and gets caught.

“Finally!” Ivori drags him closer. “Thought I’d never— _shit!”_ He realizes, if not quickly enough, what Oscar’s new plan is.

Oscar grins and whacks him in the nose. Then he winces. “Sorry, are you—”

And the next thing he knows, he’s thrown across the arena, into a hard-light pillar, and the elimination buzzer goes off. He doesn’t have those extra aura reserves to fall back on anymore.

Ow. 

Oscar just lies there for a moment. Then he lifts his head and yells—or more accurately groans, “Sorry!”

“Don’t worry, we got this,” Jaune yells back.

Just in time for the _other_ buzzer to go off. This one means the match is out of time. Which means, since Team FNKI got fewer members eliminated, they technically won this.

“In retrospect,” Jaune says after everyone meets up in the middle, “maybe challenging your whole team was not the smartest idea I’ve ever had.”

“At least we talked you out of fighting everyone by yourself?” Oscar tries. He rubs the back of his neck. “Ow.”

“That would not have gone well,” Ren agrees. “At all.”

Jaune rolls his eyes, slings an arm around Ren’s shoulders. “Oh, you of little faith. I could have lasted at _least_ a minute.”

“Fifteen seconds. Maximum.”

“Aw, be fair to him. He could have made it twenty.” Oscar grins, but it fades quickly. “I’m going to miss fighting with you guys. And Nora. Honestly I’m just going to miss you in general.”

“Yeah. Even if you refuse to believe I can hold my own in a fight.” Jaune grins back. “Which I totally _could have_. Somewhat. Maybe.”

Ren wordlessly raises an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Jaune continues slightly awkwardly, “it’s not like we’ll be gone forever. We’ll come visit. But I bet you’ll be too busy with your new teammates to worry about us.”

“No way,” Oscar says. “I’ll introduce you.”

“And don’t worry, we’ll keep an eye on him,” Flynt says.

Oscar turns to stare at him. And Neon. Neither of them have left, he thought they’d already gone. And, judging by the surprised noise Jaune makes, he had too.

“It’s kind of our job,” Neon supplies. “Being senior students and all.”

“Yeah,” Jaune agrees. “Thanks. Um. Why are you still here? You won.”

“Eh, this time. I want a rematch once Nora’s back. I have to beat her in _something!_ At least once.”

“Wait, what do you—”

“What Neon means,” Flynt says, in a significantly lower voice, “is that we know where your missing teammate is. Same with Team RWBY. We know they’re texting you, but…”

“Thought you might want to hear it from someone who’s seen them,” Neon finishes for him. “They’re doing important stuff. Won’t be able to rejoin you for a bit. But they’re safe. Ish.”

“Safe as anyone can be these days.” Flynt shrugs. “That was supposed to be reassuring. Not sure we succeeded. But yeah, they’re fine, we can take a message if you want. Just don’t tell anyone else.”

“Not our teammates, not any of the other adults hanging around here, and _definitely_ not the General.” Neon counts off all three groups on her fingers, and then grins. “Also, your Nora is _way_ too good at video games. You probably already knew that.”

“Yep,” Jaune says forlornly.

Ren only nods. “Is there… no way we could meet in person?”

“Probably not. Not unless you have a way down to Mantle, an excuse to be away for a while, and… actually, wait.” Neon looks at Flynt. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I’ve got no way to know what you’re thinking,” Flynt says.

“Oh. True. Well—you think you can get off election night? We’re still a few days out.”

“If not, I can cover for you,” Oscar says. “But I’m thinking Ironwood just might let us.”

* * *

Ruby plops her many bags of groceries down on Eudico’s kitchen table and starts putting things away. Blake and Yang help, though Nora is more preoccupied with inspecting the pancake batter and syrup as if comparing it in her mind to every other pancake she’s had in her life. Knowing Nora, she probably remembers them all. 

“Did you guys fill Eudico in on everything?” Ruby asks as the last bits of food are put away. 

“The highlights,” Blake says. “Maidens, Relics, Salem. How Bishop used to be connected to it all.”

“And we told her about Tyrian,” Nora adds. “She says there’s nothing we can do.”

Eudico seems surprisingly well composed after everything she’s been told, but no less tired. “We can’t touch him while he’s in the mines. His tail means he’s always armed while we’re not, and even if you beat him, it would come back on all of us for harming a company employee. I’ll warn the others and we’ll be careful what we tell him, but we can’t let him suspect you told us anything.”

“Will the others even believe us?” Ruby asks. “He’s been playing dumb, being on his best behavior, this whole time. Especially if he and Ticker really are cousins…” She waves to Weiss as she comes out of the bathroom to help put everything away. 

“You say Biz will already know what you just told me? They’ll believe the two of us together.” 

“But Tyrian will still do missions for Vox,” Blake says. “We just have to be careful. Get as much out of him as we can without giving him anything he could use against us.”

“Right.” Ruby nods. “Especially if he has the lamp, although that may be less likely now. Let’s sit down. I have more news.”

Everyone moves to the small living room and takes a seat, looking expectantly at Ruby. 

“So. We may have a problem. A major problem. And we need to warn everyone we can.” Ruby glances around at her friends. “Salem is here,” she says. “In Mantle, right now.”

“What?!”

“I just met her. She found me while I was out.”

“And you’re still alive?” Nora asks as if Ruby might not be, despite sitting right across from her. 

Ruby nods. “She just wanted to talk, so we did. She told me a lot of important stuff.”

“Did you tell _her_ anything?” Weiss gives Ruby a pointed look. 

“Some. I had to. I told her how much we knew, to try to freak her out. I figured she might react like Ozpin did, but… she actually seemed _happy_ that we knew. It was weird.” Ruby gets an almost pained look on her face. “She didn’t seem at all like I expected. Very calm, only threatened me once…”

“Still once too many!” Nora clenches her hands into fists. 

“She didn’t hurt me.” Ruby runs through everything Salem had told her, trying to decide what to say first. “So, there’s good news and there’s bad news.”

“Give it to us bad first,” Eudico says. “What are we dealing with?”

“The bad news is, in addition to Tyrian, she has another agent here who we haven’t met yet. I think their name started with a W? She stopped herself before she said it all. The even worse news is, Cinder is still alive too, and she followed us to Atlas.”

“She’s _still_ not dead?” Nora exclaims. “How much is it going to take?”

“Yeah, really.” Yang rolls her eyes. “I thought my mom had finally finished her off at Haven.” 

“Who’s Cinder?” Eudico only seems confused. 

“The organizer of the Fall of Beacon, and the current Fall Maiden,” Blake explains. “She killed our friend Pyrrha, nearly killed Weiss, and came close to stealing the Relic of Knowledge during the attack on Haven Academy.”

“The good news,” Ruby jumps in before there can be any more discussion, “is that Cinder has apparently gone rogue. Salem wants her dead just as much as we do. But the bad news again is that the _reason_ she stopped taking Salem’s calls is because she wants revenge… on me.”

“You did take an eye and an arm off of her,” Blake points out. 

Some of the shock and worry that Eudico has been suppressing starts to show itself again. 

“Salem offered me a deal,” Ruby says. “I didn’t take it, but… after what she told me, it was tempting. She offered to kill Cinder herself, and make sure her magic went to me. She was going to make _me_ the next Fall Maiden.”

“In exchange for…”

“The Relic, of course. That’s what makes me think she doesn’t have it yet. But she also said we could use the last question ourselves first. She was offering a lot.”

“She can afford to wait a hundred years. You didn’t tell her we don’t have it anymore, did you?”

Ruby shakes her head. 

Eudico speaks up suddenly from across the room. “So she tries to take this magic lamp by force at Haven. And after that fails, she tries… just asking nicely?”

“Worth a shot, I suppose.” Yang can’t help but laugh a little. “Maybe we could ask her nicely to stop?”

“I… kind of did, almost. It didn’t go any better, but…” Ruby sighs and the troubled expression returns. 

“What is it?”

“I suppose we already knew this before, but… Salem is not a Grimm. We’ve been thinking of her in terms of what she _does_ as a source of destruction, but that’s different from who she _is._ There’s still a person underneath all that. She’s still human. And we saw that, I mean, she raised a family _after_ jumping into the Grimm pool. But I think we all forget, and we shouldn’t. I think that’s the biggest thing I learned today. She _can_ be reasoned with.”

“Can she really?” Nora asks, still skeptical. 

“She was telling me about why she does all this, and…” Ruby sighs again. “That’s the worst part! It made sense! Up until the point where she concluded she had to kill people, anyway. But it really sounded like she didn’t want to be doing this, and if she got even a single Relic she could stop.”

Ruby stares down at her feet. “I wish I could talk to Ozpin,” she says softly. “We’ve been fine without him this far, and I _am_ afraid of what he’ll do to Oscar. But now that we know everything, and especially after meeting Salem, I think we need to have a serious talk about what his goals for the world really are.”

“What do you mean?”

Ruby looks back up at Nora to answer her. “I don’t think Oz and Salem have actually spoken to each other in centuries, maybe longer. If they did, and if Ozpin said what I hope he would, I think there’s a real chance we could get this whole war called off. And I can set up another meeting with Salem. We just need Ozpin to stop sulking and come out again.”

Ruby pulls both her scrolls out of a pocket and shows them to her friends. “Look. She gave me a new scroll with her contact in it. If we can talk to her from a safe distance, I think that could be really useful.”

Blake stares at the new scroll. “So Salem… can just be called or texted like anyone else. I suppose that makes sense, it’s just… I always thought she would, like, communicate through Grimm, or something.”

“Maybe she does?” Yang proposes. “Even if I could talk through Grimm with weird magic powers, I’d still want a scroll for backup.” 

Ruby pockets the new scroll and opens her usual one. “Maybe. But look at this. Apparently what I said impressed her, so…” 

She passes her scroll around the group to show off her new license. Weiss gets it first and stares for a moment, unsure what she’s meant to be looking at, until Nora points out over her shoulder that it now reads Huntress instead of Student. 

“What… How did you get this?”

“Salem gave it to me! She hacked the system somehow, and now I’m a real Huntress!”

Eudico holds out a hand and Ruby’s new license is passed to her at once. “Why?” she asks, frowning at it. “This gives you some authority and legal protection that you didn’t have before. That can only help…”

She trails off as she notices the seal in the bottom corner. “Wait. This has the General’s stamp on it. What happens when he finds out about this? Salem might have just framed _you_ for hacking his network at the highest level.”

* * *

Pietro hums to himself as his chair steps over the cluttered floor, and turns him to face the robot that should already be holding Professor Ozpin. It doesn’t. Not yet, at least, or if it _does_ that’s an even worse problem. If it does, then Ozpin is doing a remarkably good job of not showing up on any one of the tests that should reveal his presence.

Pietro is, however, _reasonably_ certain that he’s not in there at all. Which is, again, quite a problem. He and Archie had transferred what they thought was Ozpin’s aura into the robot, but there’s no sign of it now.

There’s no sign of that aura in Oscar anymore either. So where did Ozpin _go?_

“Afraid I’m much too tired to try anything else with you tonight,” Pietro tells the robot lying prone on his worktable. “So, if you’d like to wake up, now’s a good time!”

The robot does not wake up. No surprise there. Honestly, he’d be surprised if Ozpin’s robot—Ozbot— _did_ wake up.

“That’s a no,” Pietro says, unnecessarily. “Don’t suppose you saw where I put my good wrench? Oh, of course you didn’t. I know it has to be around here somewhere. Maybe I _should_ clean up the place.”

He turns around, surveys the room and the state of semi-organized chaos it’s currently in.

“Not tonight,” he decides, like he’s decided the last several nights. “Well. Let me know if you see my wrench. I’ve got to go if I want to catch the last airship up to Atlas. Or, I _could_ get a lift from my daughter, I suppose. But she has more important things to worry about than a forgetful old man. Goodnight, Professor.”

With that, he locks up, and makes it onto the transport ship not a minute before it leaves.

The next morning, his chair catches on something just inside the front door. It’s his good wrench. Ozbot, of course, is still lying right where he left him.


	16. Part 2 Episode 2: Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox gains a new member -- or an old one. Team BRN get some bad news, and Ruby decides to do something about it. The Council election is tomorrow, and everyone is ready... including someone who doesn't much care about the politics as long as it gives him a chance to get revenge.

Life  _ with _ a prosthetic is dubiously better than life without one. At least when it’s a Schnee Dust Company prosthetic. Usually it works, well enough anyway. Then there are days like today, when Eudico would almost rather have a bare piece of metal she twisted together herself, just so it won’t have any electronics or moving parts to cause her problems. 

The worst thing about her current situation is that the prosthetic isn’t even just a dead weight peg leg today. She could walk on that, if a little awkwardly. Her knee and above is still fine. But no. Somehow it’s glitched and gotten her foot pointed as far as it will go, and there it’s stuck. 

Which is why she’s called the best engineer she knows to fix it. Rudy Zuud may not be part of Vox anymore, but she’ll still come to help an old friend with a prosthetics issue. 

“So. What’ve we got?” Zuud is right down to business, as always. She walks around to all sides of Eudico’s propped up leg. 

“Foot’s like that. Won’t move.” Eudico describes the problem in the same down to earth manner. 

“Alright. Shouldn’t be too hard.” Zuud glances up at where Yang and Weiss sit at the kitchen table, staring at a single scroll between them. “That’s a nice looking arm you got. Want a gun in it?”

Yang shakes her forearm and flexes. “Already got one.”

“Good taste. Look what you’re missing, Eudi.”

Eudico sighs. “Please don’t put a gun in my leg.” 

She’s too tired to protest as much as usual, but hopefully Zuud got the message. The last thing Eudico needs is a gun she didn’t know was there going off in the middle of a thoroughly inappropriate situation, like a date or something.

Not that she’ll feasibly  _ have _ an actual date anytime in the near future, but the point still stands. Her pointed foot unfortunately means she  _ can’t _ stand. Which means she can’t go to work until it’s fixed.

But she can’t just sit idly by either. Which is why, when Weiss comes by with her scroll in her hands and a hesitant look on her face, she doesn’t even hesitate to say, “What’ve you got?”

“Um.” Weiss looks at Zuud meaningfully, then at Yang, who shrugs.

“Please, Snowflake,” Zuud scoffs. “Just ‘cause I want no part in Vox anymore doesn’t mean I’m going to snitch. I’m the  _ last _ person you need to worry about that with.”

“I trust her,” Eudico says with a shrug.

“You’d  _ better, _ or I’m leaving your leg like this. Half disassembled and with nowhere near enough firepower.”

“It’s my  _ leg, _ I don’t need a gun in my leg!”

“That’s what you think.”

“Okay, um, guns in legs aside, there’s… well.” To her credit, Weiss only sounds a little confused. “There’s something you need to see. As well as anyone else we can get this in front of, actually. Before Yang and I… is  _ left _ being too vague?”

“Not the only thing we did,” Yang supplies, “but it works.”

“My mom gave me access to security cameras throughout the manor. Security cameras my—that  _ Jacques _ doesn’t know about. Current footage isn’t really showing much, but the backlogs… there’s someone he keeps meeting with. Someone who—I think they might be planning something. I think this might be S—”

She suddenly sneezes into her arm. “Sorry. We need to figure out who he is. And fast.” She passes her scroll over to Eudico, who takes it wordlessly. There’s a video on the screen, paused at a scene of two men seated in an ornate office.

One of them, Eudico knows  _ far _ too well: Jacques Schnee himself.

The other… no, she’s never seen him before. She thinks she’d remember that mustache.

“Not familiar to me,” she says, looking up.

“Play it. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but it sounds like he’s…” Weiss winces. “Just play it. Please.”

_ “That bastard is costing me more money every day with this embargo. I'd lay off every employee in Mantle if I wasn't trying to get their damn votes for this Council seat!” _

That is, unmistakably, the old bastard himself. Eudico can’t imagine what it would be like to have someone like him as a father. She leans in a little as the other man starts to speak.

_ “What if I said you could have your cake, and eat it, too?” _

Zuud’s stopped working. She’s probably done. Eudico can worry about her later. She does  _ not _ like the sound of this.

_ “What did you have in mind?” _

_ “James Ironwood never recognized my genius. After everything I gave him, he still disgraced me. I simply wish to return the favor.” _

“Uh… Zuud, right?” Yang asks. “You okay?”

“Give me that,” Zuud says.

It takes a few moments for Eudico to realize she’s talking to her. “I—okay. You know who this is?”

She hands the scroll over, even as the video is still playing. Zuud takes one look at it and her eyes go wide. She grips the scroll so tightly it’s a miracle it doesn’t break.

“He’s  _ alive?” _ Zuud’s aura flickers. Her gaze finds Eudico’s. “Not for fucking long he isn’t. Sign me up for the new Vox. We’re taking that fucker down.”

“Wait, what?” Eudico stammers, not quite believing her own ears. Or her eyes for that matter, when Zuud pulls out a piece of scrap metal here and a piece of scrap metal there and, as she and the kids watch, assembles them into a gun on the spot.

“Did I fucking stutter?” With a single movement, she loads her newly assembled gun. “Also, your leg should be working now. But Vox. I’m in. And we’re going to kill him.”

Eudico is starting to get an idea of what might have happened to Rudy in the two years she was missing from the mines. And she already doesn’t like it.

“Great. Who is it we’re killing?”

“Won’t matter when we’re done with him.”

* * *

“Hey, kids! Company wants to talk to you.” Eudico waves the three huntresses-in-training over to the side, away from the open crates of ice dust they’d been sealing and loading onto carts. “Couldn’t get the full story, but they don’t seem  _ too _ pissed at you, so that’s good. I’ll cover what I can here so you’re not behind.” 

Nora squints at her. “What are you doing at work? I thought your leg was glitching.”

“Zuud fixed it up for me. Wanted to install a gun in it, but I managed to convince her not to. I think. Also she’s, uh… back with us, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh. Cool. So where do we meet these company guys?”

Eudico points in the general direction of the mine entrance. “That tunnel, first left. There’s a door to the enforcer outpost.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Blake leads the way, Ruby and Nora not far behind. 

Just around the corner there are in fact two doors. The first is made of sturdy iron bars and fastened by multiple deadbolts into the rock around it. No lights illuminate the space behind, but three pairs of glowing eyes tell all too well what’s been kept here. From the low growls as they pass by, it sounds like sabyrs. Big ones. 

On the other side of the hall just across from the hinge, there are more holes drilled into the stone. The gate holding the Grimm back can swing open and be fastened here instead, funneling them into the mines while the company guards stay safe on the other side. 

Blake knocks on the metal door beyond, and silently fumes at the ‘no faunus’ sign posted on it. It could have read ‘guards only’, but what would be the difference? 

It opens immediately and a pair of SDC enforcers usher the team inside to a small but comfortable office. They’re armed, as all enforcers are, but neither has a hand on their weapons just yet. One sits down, while the other stands beside the lone desk. 

“This is not a performance evaluation,” the seated one begins. “We just have some news for you three. Both good and bad.”

“The good news for you,” the standing enforcer says, “is, as you’ve surely heard by now, that CEO Schnee has ordered all debts to the company be forgiven completely, effective immediately. Your paperwork has been processed, and from this point on, you will be paid the full wage for your duties – a wage which has just been doubled for workers of your class. You are also free to abandon this opportunity the company has given you at any time.”

Blake and Ruby exchange glances. That was the order their teammates extracted from Jacques Schnee under threat of decapitation. Good to see it’s actually being enforced, and that it’s reached them personally. 

“The bad news,” enforcer number one continues, “is that we made a rather alarming discovery while processing the material half of your files. A few nights ago someone broke into one of the vaults where contraband and confiscated items are kept. No company property was taken or damaged except for every camera in the building, so until now we thought it was simply an attack on the employees there.”

“Prodman worked in capture and contraband,” number two points out. “Could have been him again.”

“He fled the kingdom somehow. More likely it was those terrorists in Vox Faunus. That’s another thing, if you have any info on their members or operations, the company will pay you handsomely for it.” The seated enforcer clears his throat. “But more importantly, your personal items were stolen.”

Of course. Their weapons. Blake, Ruby, and Nora do their best to act surprised and dismayed at the news – which isn’t hard, given they know exactly who was in there murdering all the guards. 

The enforcer glances at a sheet of paper on the desk. “Let’s see, there was a… collapsible scythe, a collapsible hammer, half of a sword with a… ribbon? Attached to it, and a…” The man squints at the page. “Something described only as fancy and valuable looking, tentatively identified as… a lamp? Maybe?”

“They took the lamp?” There’s genuine fear in Ruby’s voice as she steps forward. “Do you have  _ any _ idea where they went with it? A single camera that caught the thief leaving?”

“Afraid not. Whoever took down the network did a very thorough job. What’s so important about it?”

“It’s…” Ruby pauses. “We were bringing it to a friend. He won’t be happy we’ve lost it.” 

“Well, we’ve made a report to Mantle police. Best hope they find it soon. That’s all we had for you right now. Back to work.” The enforcer stands again, and opens the office door to let his companion direct them out. 

* * *

“Looks like you’re still projected to win,” Fiona says, glancing up as Robyn and May walk in. “Even  _ with _ Jacques abruptly deciding to raise wages. By a lot.”

“It’s closer though,” Margulis supplies. “It’s almost like they don’t realize he’s just going to bring them right back down as soon as he has his precious council seat. Which he’s not going to have. Because  _ you’re _ going to win.”

“Exactly!” Fiona throws her hands up in exasperation. “People should be smarter than this!”

“The polls aren’t everything,” May counters. “Trust me. I’d know.”

“But is that a  _ good _ thing or a  _ bad _ thing?”

“Honestly – and when am I not–” Robyn shrugs. “Could go either way. We’ll see what happens. I’ll go out and make one last statement before the polls open, but at this point, there’s not a lot that’ll change people’s minds.”

“Be careful,” Margulis says. Unnecessarily, but the thought is appreciated.

“Says the one who’s being hunted down by a maniac,” Fiona retorts. She leans back in her chair, or  _ further _ back in her chair anyway, to poke Joanna. “Hey, Jo. The girls are back.”

“Mmmmfhwhat?” Joanna says intelligently. “Oh. Hi May, hi Robyn. What day is it?”

“Still the day before the election,” Robyn says. She glances out the window. “Or… night, I guess, by now. Evening. Lis, do you mind?”

“Nope,” Margulis says. She gets up, heads to the window, and draws the curtains. “Probably shouldn’t have had them open  _ anyway, _ but electricity’s expensive. It was nice out.”

“Nice as it can be in Mantle,” Joanna adds. “Shithole capital of Remnant.”

“I hate to agree with you, but…” Robyn’s sigh makes it abundantly clear just how much she  _ does _ agree with her. “We’re closer than ever to changing that. Another stalker won’t stop us now. We won’t let him.”

Another stalker just means that Margulis is, under no circumstances, going anywhere alone in the near future. Neither is anyone else. The buddy system might seem childish, but from what they’ve managed to dig up on Adam Taurus from the surviving internet, he seems  _ much _ less likely to attack groups.

He strikes when people are alone, vulnerable. In short, he’s a coward, and Robyn can’t  _ wait _ to kill him. But she will. She’s just got an election to win first.

“That right there,” May says after a moment, “is why  _ you’re _ the one running for councilwoman.”

“Because I’m good at giving motivational speeches, yep, checks out. You all know anything could happen tomorrow.”

“Polls or no polls, the only way Jacques is winning is through  _ massive _ election fraud,” Joanna says. “Which, he  _ would _ do, let’s be honest.”

Robyn extends her already glowing hand with a grin. “Yeah?”

Joanna just  _ sighs _ . She pretends not to see it. “He  _ would _ do it if he could, but do any of you really think he could? I don’t.”

“Me either,” Fiona says. “If he had that kind of influence, he would have figured out who the voice behind Vox Faunus was long ago.”

“Maybe not.” May climbs up onto the back of Fiona’s armchair and crouches there like a normal person. “Depends if their encryption was any good. Or is now.”

“You know, I wasn’t here for the original Vox. Wish I had been, now. Wasn’t a good time in my life.” Margulis considers this for a moment, then shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. But if this is the same person doing the transmissions—and I’d bet it is—then I know who they are. Their transmissions are encrypted, sure, but not as much as they could be.”

“Not that it would matter if Jacques was able to rig the election. If he could do that, he’d be able to find Vox too.”

“Speaking of Vox,” Robyn frowns. “Well, kind of. I invited a few of them to our victory party. Mostly the ones we’ve already met. But I’m starting to wonder, maybe we should just…”

“Cancel it?” Joanna asks.

Robyn nods. “Adam doesn’t like groups, but that’s groups of trained individuals who can put up a fight. Like us. Groups of ordinary people wouldn’t stand a chance if he attacked there. And if we  _ do _ have it, we need to figure out where Lis’ll be. The house isn’t safe.”

“I can hide in the back?” Margulis offers.

“And what if he gets in there?”

“You’ll be close by, not halfway across Solitas. And if I’m in the back, it’ll be safer for any bystanders. I can keep an eye out for any other trouble.”

“Idea.” Fiona raises a hand. “This Adam, he’s in Ballas’s body but he  _ isn’t _ Ballas, right? He doesn’t know what Ballas knows?”

“Clearly he knows quite a bit, he knew where to find me and when you all would be… away.”

“He doesn’t know what you look like without the mask on. Does he?”

Margulis opens her mouth to disagree, then shuts it again. She thinks about this.

“He’d only know what Ballas told him. His semblance switches physical appearance, that’s it.”

“So he  _ wouldn’t _ know what you look like,” Robyn concludes. “That could be dangerous, you remember what that Ruby kid told us about silver eyes, but…”

“It could work.”

“You’d have to stay away from us so he doesn’t put two and two together.” May frowns. “That’s of course assuming he’s that smart. Which is debatable.”

“Unfortunately, he seems to be pretty smart,” Fiona says. “Just completely fucking insane.”

* * *

The lamp is gone. The  _ Relic of Knowledge _ is gone. 

Tyrian took it. 

And that means it will already be in  _ her _ hands by now. After everything they went through to keep it safe at Haven, to transport it to Atlas where it would be better protected by the strongest military in the world… All for nothing. Salem has it. 

What can Ruby do? What purpose is there even being in Atlas, if the Relic is no longer in her care? 

Substantively, there’s probably  _ nothing _ she can do right now to get the lamp back. But there might be one thing she can do to at least make herself feel a little better about it all. Yelling at the thief won’t bring it back, but it might be pretty satisfying. 

Ruby pulls out her scroll. Not the usual one. Her other scroll, given to her by the enemy. She opens the contact list and taps the one and only name it shows. 

The line rings only a few seconds before Salem picks up the other end. “Hello, Ruby,” she says neutrally. 

“Do you have the lamp?” Ruby challenges. She’s sure she knows the answer, but she has to hear it directly from Salem herself. 

There is a slight pause before the witch answers. “Are you saying you don’t?”

“The SDC had it alongside our weapons, and now they don’t. I know Tyrian took it.” 

“And you’re worried he might not have given it to me like he was supposed to? It’s okay, I can assure you the lamp is quite safe. And if it makes you feel any better, Tyrian couldn’t have done that mission alone.”

“That’s  _ not _ better.” That means her other agent was involved too. That man from the recordings Weiss brought. 

Ruby paces back and forth across Eudico’s living room, scowling at the floor. She would love nothing more right now than to give Salem a piece of her mind, but the words aren’t coming easily. Genuine anger never really has, for her. And there’s no time to think while on a call. 

“You should be happy I have a Relic now,” Salem says. “You know what that means for the world’s safety. Once the lamp is secure enough and I’m confident I won’t lose it again, I have no further requirement that the world stay divided.”

Ruby snorts. “If I can trust anything you say.” She starts to cross her arms over her chest, only to realize she can’t while holding a scroll to her ear. “Which doesn’t seem likely. I know you’ll say or do anything to get what you want.”

Salem lets out a long sigh. “If you want the Relic to verify that I’m telling the truth, I am still willing to let you ask it. If not, let me prove it by my actions. I do  _ not _ wish to destroy the world. I mean no harm to anyone insofar as they do not work to bring about the return of the gods.”

“Right… because all you’ve ever wanted was freedom. The lamp also told us how good you are at manipulating people. I  _ won’t _ let you trick me.”

“Really? And how would you know if I was?” 

Ruby is silent for a moment as she ponders this. “Because my team can help me,” she says finally. “I’ll always have them to keep me on the right track. With all of us together, we’re stronger than anything you can do.”

Salem doesn’t respond for a long moment. “Your teammate,” she says finally. “Weiss.”

“What about her?”

“Can you not see the similarities between her life story and mine? Born a princess but brought up in the shadow of a cruel, controlling father? A daring escape – to Beacon, for her – upon which she meets someone who will be a friend and lover for the rest of their life?” Salem pauses to let her words sink in. “I don’t mean to compare your sister to Ozma too much – she’s better than that – but it’s quite obvious to me.”

Ruby blinks rapidly and moves to take a seat just to process what she was just told. “Um… what? Weiss and Yang aren’t… they’re not… together, like that.”

“Then why did Jacques Schnee complain so loudly and so often to my agent about their repeated public displays of affection while they were under his roof?” Salem sighs. “That’s beside the point, though. I was telling you about Weiss and myself. It gets worse. If I had to choose one person on this world today who perfectly encapsulates the essence of the gods, Jacques Schnee would be a very strong contender.”

This call really isn’t turning out at all how Ruby expected it to go. Her stunned silence is taken as an invitation to elaborate, and Salem continues. 

“You did see the gods when you used the lamp, right? Immense power, but interested only in maintaining their control. Easy to offend, with even the slightest request taken as a great imposition. Inflexible and entirely unconcerned with fairness, only repeating the same unjust decrees louder until you submit. So invested in the public image of their supposed benevolence, while what good does come of their blessings does not rely on them personally and would better serve the world if decentralized. Tell me, does any one of those points  _ not _ also apply to Weiss’s father?”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Ruby asks. “I mean, yeah, that does kind of sound like Weiss’s dad. If by blessings you mean… dust?”

“Of course. Dust is the crystallized form of the magic that once flowed freely through the planet. As if you needed another point of similarity, Jacques now sells the same blessing that the gods once… not  _ sold _ , but they didn’t give it freely either. Every drop of their love was so very  _ conditional _ . Keep your head down, don’t take a single step out of line… You know what happens to those who disobey.”

“They get cursed for eternity. Or thrown into the mines without pay.” 

“Exactly. You and I are not so different.” Salem’s voice is softer now, almost soothing. “You deserve freedom just as much. Why not overthrow the tyrants and build a better world together?”

Suddenly it’s like a switch has flipped in Ruby’s mind and she snaps out of the trance of listening to Salem talk. “No,” she retorts at once. “Stop trying to recruit me. I’m not leaving my friends.”

“You wouldn’t have to. I have room for seven.”

“We are  _ not _ going to help you. With  _ anything. _ ”

“But you already are. You’re supporting Vox Faunus, same as me. Did you know Tyrian is under orders not to harm your team so long as you’re in the mines?”

Ruby freezes. If that’s true, then he’s likely to stick around even now that the Relic is gone from the mines. Orders or no, it doesn’t sound pleasant to have to deal with him for even longer. 

“Why?” she asks. 

There is a pause, in which Ruby is  _ sure _ that on the other end of the line, Salem has just shrugged. “Fairness? Justice? You know that’s important to me. Also, your operations have been quite a nuisance to the General.”

“No, why is Tyrian being so nice? It’s creepy. More so than he usually is, even.”

“Would you rather he not be?”

“I cut his tail off once. I can do it again.” Then Ruby remembers who she’s talking to, and starts to reconsider her brave words. “But I’d rather not have a fight if we can avoid it.”

“A mutual non-aggression treaty then, between your team and mine?”

Ruby glares at the empty space in front of her, imagining it’s Salem. “I wouldn’t go that far. Enough. I’ve wasted enough time with  _ you. _ ”

She takes the scroll away from her ear, but before her finger can find the button to hang up, a few last words come through. “Do think about it. We both have much to gain from working together.”

* * *

Blake must  _ know _ how ironic it is, where she’s hiding now. Adam  _ could _ consider it poetic, if he gave a damn about poetry, or really about  _ anything _ at this point except finally,  _ finally, _ getting and giving what everyone deserves. 

She can’t hide forever. And yet, whenever she’s not in the mines, she’s  _ never _ alone. Adam could easily take on Blake and one other person, but three trained people is pushing it. Four isn’t a bet he’d like to make.

Margulis is, somehow,  _ still _ an easier target. At least Adam can  _ get _ to where she is. He’s not setting foot in those mines no matter what happens. Unfortunately, Margulis is never alone now either. Not after the first time he attacked, and she  _ should _ have died there.

The huntresses protecting Margulis can’t keep their guard up forever. And once it goes down? So will she. 

Then it will be back to Blake. And Sienna. And Cressa Tal, so he can take this isolated chapter of the White Fang and start over after  _ Blake _ and her friends got most of the Mistral branch arrested. 

It won’t be long now. All he needs is one opening.


	17. Part 2 Episode 3: A Night Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Ruby, Eudico, Nora, and Ticker head off to Robyn's victory party, the rest of Team RWBY has a serious conversation about some important things. On the military's side of things, Marrow and Penny are here to work security, and Jaune and Ren may or may not be coming to reunite with their teammate and friend. Margulis avoids one danger by not wearing her mask at the party, perhaps at the cost of another one entirely. And what happens at the victory party might be the least of our heroes' worries...

Even though her weapon is broken, it’s hard to give it away, even though it’s to be fixed. If it wasn’t to someone she trusted, Blake isn’t sure she would be able to at all. 

“I’ll give it right to Jaune,” Ruby promises, before considering this a bit. “Actually, Ren might be a better idea, Jaune’s great but he’s…”

“Forgetful, to put it lightly,” Blake supplies. “You remember that time when he showed up to Goodwitch’s class without his weapon?”

Ruby grins. “Yeah! He was so proud of the fact he actually made it early for once, and then he realized what he was missing and started begging me to help him get back to the dorms in time to not be late!”

“And then it didn’t matter anyway, because Pyrrha—” The words catch in her throat. “—she noticed he’d left his weapon behind and grabbed it on the way out.”

Ruby’s grin is kind of forced at this point, but she nods. “Pyrrha was the hero we didn’t deserve. She—anyway! I’ll give this to Ren. I’d better go before they get going without me. Bye!”

In an instant she’s zoomed off in a cloud of red petals. One flutters down to land in Blake’s outstretched hand before dissipating into nothingness. She sighs, and shuts the door behind Ruby. Unless either Weiss or Yang suddenly change their minds about going to Robyn’s victory party, that’s everyone.

Almost on cue, Yang pokes her head out of the bathroom. “They gone yet?”

“You just missed them,” Blake says.

“Oh well.” She shrugs. “Eh, works out, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. And Weiss, but she can wait a bit longer.”

It occurs to Blake, suddenly, that she has no idea where their fourth teammate is. Her eyes go wide. “Where’s—”

“Taking a nap, don’t worry.”

“Oh.” Blake tries to calm down her racing heart. She only has a limited amount of success there, but better some success than none at all. At least her heart’s pounding away in her chest just a little bit slower. “That’s… good?”

“She said something about wanting to stay up late to watch the election. Which, fair, but also it’s not going  _ that _ late.” Yang shrugs again. “Probably doesn’t help that she was up super late last night making sure her sister didn’t send out  _ another _ rescue mission.”

“Probably not,” Blake agrees. “So… what did you want to talk about?”

“Talking. Right.” For a few moments, Yang looks almost nervous. “So… I’m gonna be real with you here. I like you. A lot.”

Yang reaches for Blake’s hand, takes it in hers.

“Oh,” is all the semi-coherent speech Blake can manage at the moment. Her cheeks flush. “Um.”

“Do you like me the way I like you? Because if not, there’s not really a point in bringing up the rest. Or waking Weiss up, really.”

Blake isn’t entirely sure what Weiss even has to do with this, but she manages a nod.

“I—yes,” she stutters. “I didn’t want to, for a while. You reminded me too much of…”

“Adam,” Yang guesses.

“Yeah. But you’re  _ not _ him. You’re what he could have been, maybe should have been. You’re all the things I thought he was, and learned all too well he wasn’t. But most importantly…” 

Blake hesitates for just a moment, before throwing her arms around her teammate and pulling her into an embrace. 

“You’re  _ you,” _ Blake murmurs into her hair. “You’re Yang, no matter what happens. You don’t give up. You don’t give in. You keep fighting for what you believe in.”

Blake reaches around and takes Yang’s other hand, her prosthetic one, in her other hand. She gives it a squeeze, and continues, “Nothing can keep you down forever. You don’t give up, but you’re not blind to reality either. If what you thought was right isn’t, you’ll find something else to fight for that is.”

She takes a deep breath, and lets it out. “That’s why I love you, Yang Xiao Long.”

“Wow,” Yang says. “Damn. Qrow was right, all I needed to do was actually be open about my feelings. Maybe it’s time to take some of his other advice, too.”

Blake raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“This is the part we need Weiss for. Let’s go wake her up.”

* * *

“So why are you two here?” Marrow asks as the group rounds the corner. “Neither of you strike me as the politically-involved type. Or the overambitious type, to take on a mission when you’ve got a night off.”

“We just thought it might be fun?” Jaune tries. “I suggested we go to a movie but none of them looked good, then we were going to go chaperone Oscar but Flynt and Neon volunteered, and Ren  _ wanted _ to stay in our room and do boring things like meditate—”

“Meditation is only boring to you because you haven’t tried it,” Ren counters.

“Okay, fair, I just can’t sit still for that long. And we’re not here  _ for _ the mission, we’re just here for moral support, and maybe to see what Robyn Hill is all about?”

“I could have told you that,” Marrow mutters. “But sure. What do I care? Just don’t go rogue and join her Happy Huntresses yourselves.”

Before Jaune can get out a  _ don’t worry, we’re neither, _ the fourth member of their group touches down in a flash of brilliant green. 

“Salutations, Operative Marrow! Jaune and Ren!” Penny salutes them all with a cheery grin.

“Salutations, Penny.” Jaune salutes her right back. “And don’t worry about us, Marrow. We’re just curious, that’s all!”

“Curiosity is how it always starts,” Marrow says. “But… there’s a reason I chose this mission tonight, so I can’t deny you that. Just be careful, and don’t forget that there’s always a catch. No matter how good Robyn’s ideas might sound, there’s  _ always _ a catch.”

“Marrow,” Penny begins, “are you—”

“Fine. I’m fine. Let’s just get in there and do our jobs.”

* * *

Weiss crosses her arms and glares at both of them, but it lacks most of her usual bite. “Just for the record, I hate you both.”

“Please,” Yang says. “You love me.”

“I am not dignifying  _ that _ with a response.”

Blake looks between Weiss and Yang, between Yang and Weiss. Her brow furrows in confusion. “Am I… missing something here?”

They’re all seated on the blow-up mattress Eudico had pulled out of a closet somewhere, in a sort of triangle formation. Weiss is still blinking the sleep out of her eyes on Blake’s right, farthest from the door. Yang has a determined look on her face on Blake’s left.

And Blake  _ definitely _ feels like she’s missing something, but she isn’t sure what.

“A little,” Yang says. “Before we do anything else, I’m going to tell you a story. How familiar are you two with the team my parents were on? Team STRQ?”

“Raven was on it, I think?” Weiss says. “And Qrow.”

“So was Ruby’s mom.” Blake remembers that much. “And your dad.”

“Yep. Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen. From what I’ve heard, they caused about as much trouble in school as we did.” Yang clears her throat. “Anyway. For the longest time, I thought Raven and Dad were in a relationship only with each other, and then once Raven left, Mom—Summer—and Dad hooked up. I was about half right. Talked to Qrow to confirm. Turns out, from the end of their first year at Beacon, Mom, Dad, and Raven were all dating each other.”

“That’s… a thing you can do?” Weiss asks. “Date multiple people at once?”

“It’s definitely a thing, it’s what Neon and Flynt’s parents were doing before one of their moms died,” Blake supplies. “And in retrospect, I have quite a few questions for my mom and Si—someone, the next time I see her.”

“Weiss knows, don’t worry, Sienna called when I was talking with her  _ and _ her mom,” Yang says dismissively. “Also helped us break out a bit. Don’t worry about it.”

“...okay.”

“Anyway. It’s definitely a thing people can do. It’s a thing  _ we _ can do, if… if you’d both be open to it.” Yang holds out a hand to both of them. “I have two hands. And… I love you both. And I know you both love me, and I’m not  _ as _ sure about this but I think you love each other too.”

She looks between Weiss and Blake again but both are hesitant to take her hand. “I’d expect Ruby will join us too eventually, since, you know… Weiss. Maybe you too, I don’t know. Can’t really relate on that front, she’s always going to be my baby sister. But we can worry about a fourth person after three is worked out. That sound okay?”

Blake opens her mouth and shuts it again. She probably looks stupid. Or like a fish, which is still a stupid look. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to her that  _ this _ was where Yang was going with this.

“Technically, you have one hand?” Blake says. Yang’s prosthetic is promptly ejected into her lap. “Okay. Point made. I… definitely love you, Yang. I think I made that clear earlier. And Weiss…”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Weiss says hesitantly. “Not about Yang. I know I love Yang, and I know I love Ruby. I’m not sure if I love you in that way yet, Blake. But I think I’m more than willing to try.”

Blake extends a hand to Weiss as well. Weiss takes it and looks down with a rapidly reddening face.

“I never told you this,” Weiss says quietly, “but… I always did like your ears. It was really nice to see you without the bow once you came back. Strange, but… nice.”

“Strange but nice probably can describe this whole situation.” Blake smiles. “Thanks. I always did think you were pretty. Gods, it feels good to be able to say that. But first you were just another Schnee, and then you were kind of my friend so it would have been… awkward.”

“Not anymore,” Yang says triumphantly. “I honestly can’t believe that worked out as well as it did.”

“We still have to talk to Ruby, once she gets back,” Weiss says. “She’s been avoiding us, I think?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Blake replies. “She’s been a little overwhelmed. But who wouldn’t be?”

“Me,” Yang says.

“True. You’re not overwhelmed. You’ve just been disarmed.”

All eyes go to Blake. Weiss audibly groans. Yang, meanwhile, has a huge grin that’s only growing bigger by the second.

“I can’t believe I infected you with my puns.” Yang places her one hand over her heart. “I’m touched.”

“I can’t believe it either,” Blake admits. “I guess I’ll just have to keep this for now, then. Catch me if you can!”

She scoots off the edge of the mattress, yellow-painted prosthetic still in her hands.

“Betrayal! Cold, unfeeling— _ oof!” _

“Run, Blake, I’ll hold her off!” Weiss yells. She tackles Yang to the mattress.

Blake runs, laughing as she does. She hasn’t laughed this hard in a long time.

* * *

“It’s going to be  _ so _ great to see them again!” Nora’s practically skipping down the road, and not without reason either. “You’ll like them too! Won’t they, Ruby?”

“Um, yeah?” Ruby says with a shrug. “I’m mostly going for the food.”

Ticker leans in and stage-whispers, “Oh believe me, Red, you’re  _ far _ from the only one.”

“We’re  _ really _ going,” Eudico cuts in, “to support Robyn and to keep an eye out for trouble. If Jacques could get away with it, I wouldn’t put it past him to try and attack her here. Wouldn’t be  _ traced _ to him, of course, but polls don’t mean shit if the winner’s dead.”

Unnoticed by the group, a supposedly deactivated security camera rises. It focuses on all four, then specifically on Eudico before dropping again.

“You don’t actually think—”

“I think he’ll try. I don’t think he’ll succeed. But an extra few eyes can’t hurt.”

“We’ll have my teammates too,” Nora chimes in. “Jaune’s semblance is healing. Or, really it’s amplifying other people’s auras but it  _ works _ for healing. Really, really,  _ really _ well! Weiss can tell you just how well.”

Eudico raises an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not!”

“Cinder,” Ruby says in way of explanation.

Ticker makes a sympathetic noise. “What about your other teammate?” She probably knows that it’s typically four to a team, which means she’s avoiding the metaphorical goliath in the metaphorical room on purpose.

“That’s Ren! His semblance maybe wouldn’t be so useful here unless things go really, really,  _ really _ badly. And then he’d probably need Jaune. He masks people’s negative emotions, so Grimm can’t see them.” Nora grins. “But he’s basically a ninja. So one time, when he was taking a nap—and trust me he was asleep, I can tell—our fearless leader Jaune decided to draw a mustache on his face. He reached in with the marker… and  _ wham! _ Ren caught his hand.  _ While still asleep!” _

“I remember that,” Ruby says fondly. “You bursting into our dorm room and yelling about it, anyway. But are we really calling Jaune fearless?  _ Jaune?” _

“Okay, maybe he’s not  _ entirely _ fearless, but he tries his best and refuses to back down from  _ anything _ .” Nora grins despite herself. “And Ren is… well, Ren! He’s awesome. I’m glad to know they’re okay, but it’s nice to get to see them in person again. You know?”

“Yeah, I really do.”

“Well, here we are,” Eudico says before the door. “If anyone asks, we’re just who you’ve been staying with while you’re in the mines.”

“No connection to any illegal activities at all,” Nora says a little too cheerfully, and fortunately quietly. “Let’s go!”

Despite what Nora had said about the other kids, Ticker and Eudico slip off together almost as soon as they’re in the door. Blake had said that they weren’t  _ together _ -together, as Nora aptly puts it, but Ruby isn’t sure how much she believes that. If anything, they’re not together-together  _ yet _ .

“They’ve got to be around here somewhere,” Ruby says. A quick look around doesn’t reveal either of them, and for a disused warehouse, this place is  _ packed _ . “I’ll send Jaune a text—”

“Don’t worry, I got this.” Nora cups her hands around her mouth and yells,  _ “NORA SUCKS!” _

“Hey!” Someone who sounds suspiciously like Jaune yells from off to their left. “She does  _ not!” _

“And there we go. Come on!”

“My turn,” Ruby says. She grabs Nora’s hand, and a flurry of red and pink rose petals zooms through the crowd, splitting to avoid people and finally rematerializing just in time for her to tackle Jaune to the ground. “Hi Jaune! Hi Ren!”

“Hello, Ruby,” Ren says. He manages to stay standing when Nora tackle-hugs him only through virtue of being slightly more prepared. “Hello, Nora!”

“It’s  _ so _ good to see you both again,” Nora squeals, detaching herself from Ren to pull Jaune up once Ruby gets up herself. “Like the new haircut, Jaune!”

“Um. Thanks?” Jaune rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Maria helped me trim it. I was actually going to cut my hair shorter and spike it up, it would have looked really cool but I think she’s stolen every pair of scissors in Atlas Academy and Ren won’t let me use Crocea Mors.”

“Personally,” Ren says, “I think it looks better like this.”

Nora nods vigorously. “Yeah!”

“Oh come on! It would have looked  _ great _ . Ruby? Please take my side on this.”

“I mean…” Ruby shrugs. “I really can’t picture you with short hair. Maybe around Nora’s length, but no shorter than that. It would look weird.”

Jaune sighs and hangs his head in defeat. “Betrayal. By my closest friends, no less. Cold, unfeeling betrayal. What did I ever do to deserve this?”

“Wanted to cut your hair, I think.”

“It would have looked great!”

“I sincerely doubt that,” Ren says.

_ “Betrayal!” _

“Really, though, it’s… really,  _ really _ nice to see you two again.” Nora loops an arm through Ren’s and an arm through Jaune’s, and then she grins. “I missed you dorks.”

* * *

It’s strange, not wearing a mask. Strange, unfamiliar, Margulis practically feels naked without it. But if anything happens tonight, she should still be able to access everyone’s bodycams after the fact. Hopefully nothing will happen tonight.

Hoping alone doesn’t help anybody, which is why she’s still got an earpiece in connecting her to the others’ comms. She might not be here as a Happy Huntress, but she still  _ is _ a Happy Huntress.

Right now, she isn’t feeling particularly happy  _ or _ much like a huntress. But the important thing is, she’s anonymous. There’s nothing anyone can do to connect the strange lady with the scarred face to the fifth Happy Huntress. Adam doesn’t know what she looks like.

If he  _ does, _ or if something else happens, she’s got a gun. A versatile little dart-spitter she calls Hystrix. But she’d rather not have to use it. So hopefully,  _ hopefully, _ nothing will happen.

As it is, she’s never been the biggest fan of parties. Then again, who is? She thinks she can see that Ruby girl hiding near the punch bowl, which is something she can relate to very much. Beyond that, everyone seems to be having fun. Chatting, dancing, just hanging out. Having a good time.

The last time she’d been to something like this must have been with Ballas. She hadn’t had a very good time then either, but for an entirely different reason.

_ “Got a lot of people here to see you,” _ she sends to the other huntresses with her semblance.  _ “No sign of any trouble. How are the polls doing?” _

Her earpiece crackles in her ear, and Fiona says,  _ “Robyn’s still ahead! No surprise there.” _

_ “But,” _ May cuts in,  _ “we’re ahead by a lot less than we were. An hour ago it was 63 to 37 percent. Now it’s 58 to 42 and falling.” _

_ “Even if our percentage keeps falling at the same rate, we’ll still be ahead by the time the polls close. It’ll be fine!” _

_ “I sure hope so.” _ Margulis can practically hear Robyn’s frown.  _ “What’s it look like out there, Lis?” _

_ “As I said,” _ she’s careful to use her semblance and not speak the words out loud,  _ “crowded. Really crowded. If I’d known we’d have this many people earlier, I would have suggested we use a bigger warehouse.” _

_ “Bigger ones cost money and we’d have to rent from Jacques. We’d never hear the end of it.” _ Robyn’s words take on a concerned tone and she adds,  _ “Be careful, alright? Keep in touch.” _

Margulis sends over an affirmative and starts making her way to the punch bowl. Naturally, it’s then, and only then, that she walks right into someone.

“Shit! Sorry, are you okay?” Margulis asks. She offers a hand, and a hooded man takes it. “Sorry, I should have been paying more attention where I was going.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, don’t worry about it,” he says. 

She can’t quite make out a face beneath the hood with the room’s lighting. Honestly, the only thing remotely distinguishable about him is an interesting-looking metal belt.

“Alright. I’m  _ really _ sorry. I’ll just…” She motions vaguely in the direction of the punch bowl. “Drinks are nice. Don’t think anyone’s spiked the punch yet but honestly, how would I know.”

“A very good idea! Wait…” Margulis gets the feeling he’s looking her over, beneath the hood. “What happened to your eyes? That looks…  _ painful.” _

Margulis tries to laugh, but it comes out as more of a wince. “Yeah… it was. Very painful at the time. I went blind for weeks. Long story.”

It occurs to her, suddenly, that Ruby had mentioned there were people looking for people with silver eyes. Who wanted to kill them. Sure, she hadn’t exactly  _ advertised _ her abilities, one time in the middle of nowhere with Robyn was probably fine, but… 

A chill runs down her spine, despite her better judgment. She has no idea who this is.

“Honestly, my friends tell me my entire eye color changed too,” she continues. “Used to be a nice pale purple. Now they’re this ugly grey. But hey, I’m alive! Small positives.”

“Yes,” the mystery man says. “Yes, you are. If you’ll excuse me…”

In a few moments, he’s disappeared into the crowd. Margulis watches him go, tries to ignore the bad feeling she has about this, and keeps going to the punch bowl.

Ruby’s still there, holding a cup of water. “Someone spiked the punch. Honestly, if my sister was anywhere near here I’d put my money on her, but…” She trails off as she realizes who she’s speaking to. “Lis? What are you doing here?”

“I’m guessing you mean something more along the lines of ‘Lis, why are you here without your mask’ seeing as I am a Huntress myself. A Happy one.” Margulis shrugs. “Wasn’t safe for me to stay home. Some asshole showed up in my abusive ex’s body, but we’re pretty sure he doesn’t know what my face looks like so this is actually safer. Actually, you might know him. The name Adam mean anything to you?”

Ruby visibly grimaces. “Unfortunately, yes. That’s Blake’s… ex, I think. My sister Yang has a metal arm now because of him. We thought Blake and Yang had finally killed him in Argus, but then Yang came back and said nope! He’s alive, in someone else’s body, because of course he is. We’ve been making sure Blake is safe. That’s why she didn’t come tonight, actually. Just me and Nora, and Nora’s… I figured she wanted some privacy.”

“Mmm, probably for the best. We’re pretty sure something’s going to happen tonight. Not sure  _ what, _ but it’s not like our unfriendly neighborhood billionaire to sit back and let Robyn win. Not that I’ll be complaining if he doesn’t try something.”

“Me either. You have any idea what it could be?”

“Could try and hack the vote, could try and turn this victory party into a riot, could do anything else. I just don’t like the fact that the military’s here.”

Ruby’s head snaps up. “The military’s here? Where? Well, besides Jaune and Ren, but they’re not  _ really _ military and they’re definitely not on duty. They’re just our friends! That happen to be working for Ironwood at the moment.”

“You know what,” Margulis says after a long moment, “I’m not gonna ask. But yeah. There’s one of the Ace Ops, Marrow I think? He and May have some kind of history and I’m probably the only one who doesn’t know what it is. Don’t really want to know either. Maybe dated at some point if I had to guess. And then there’s the Protector of Mantle. Definitely not good.”

“The… Protector of Mantle? That sounds like a good thing, if someone called that’s here.”

“Sounds like, sure. Whatever Ironwood says about her, she’s just one person, and she’s just a kid. Doesn’t understand she’s being used to make it look like the high and mighty up there actually give a damn about us. Although in her defense, that last part might be because of something else entirely.”

Like, for instance, being a robot. Margulis hasn’t interacted with Penny much herself, but she’s clearly not… the  _ best _ with people. She tries, though, which is more than can be said for a lot of people Margulis won’t name that are military bootlickers.

“Tell you what,” Margulis adds, “I’ll go introduce you. You two would probably get along. This way, I think she was somewhere near the stage.” She walks off. After a few moments, a burst of rose petals follows her, and Ruby’s walking at her side.

“Okay, so who  _ is _ this Protector of Mantle?” Ruby asks. “And why— _ oh my gods.” _

“That’s Penny. The Protector of Mantle.” Beside her, Ruby’s gone completely still. “Okay, now maybe  _ isn’t _ the best time for a moment of gay panic.”

For a moment, Ruby ignores her. Then she’s off in another burst of rose petals.

* * *

“I’m really,  _ really _ sorry,” Nora says. “I wish we could come back with you, I really do! We’re doing… stuff. Important stuff. Yes.”

“It’s so important you can’t tell us?” Jaune asks.

“Not unless  _ you _ want to come back with  _ us?” _ All of a sudden, Nora looks hopeful again. “We could—wait, no, we can’t do that either. Blake told us to give you this. It’s her weapon, she really,  _ really _ needs it repaired.”

She passes over a wrapped bundle. Ren takes it wordlessly. Jaune looks between the bundle and Nora with a rapidly growing frown.

“What could it possibly—”

“I know,” Ren says abruptly. “I agree that it’s important, and they definitely need Ruby and the rest of her team. But do they need you?”

“Yeah, they do!” Nora wishes she didn’t sound so enthusiastic. “They do. I’m using my semblance to help with the heavy lifting, I think the practice has made it a lot stronger than it was before.” 

“Can’t you leave the mines now, though? We can get you all up to Atlas. We could arrange for help with whatever you’re doing down here!”

“No!” Nora exclaims, and Jaune falls silent. “Don’t bring the military in. It’s… our work might be… just a little bit… highly illegal? But important! And I promise, we’ll join you as soon as we can.”

“Alright,” Jaune says. “It’s probably better we don’t know the details then. Good luck with the super secret important stuff.”

* * *

“Penny?”

As undoubtedly important as scanning the crowd for any threats to Robyn Hill’s campaign is, Penny knows that voice.  _ Penny knows that voice. _ She looks for its owner, and finds her pushing through the crowd.

Penny had promised herself that the next time she saw Ruby Rose, she was going to give her the  _ biggest _ hug. Sadly, there isn’t enough room in this building for her to give her a rocket-assisted tackle hug, but she can at least give her a very,  _ very _ big hug.

Robyn is still in the back, surrounded by her Huntresses. She’ll be fine if Penny takes just a few minutes to say hi to an old friend. So, Penny leaps down from the side of the stage and says, “Salutations, Ruby my friend! It is  _ so _ very good to see you again! What are you doing—”

_ Here, _ is what she was going to say.  _ Here tonight, _ specifically, but Penny suddenly finds herself abruptly cut off by  _ Ruby _ hugging  _ her. _ And… is she crying?

Oh dear. This is not at all how Penny wanted their reunion to go.

“Please don’t cry,” Penny says awkwardly. “I missed you too?”

“I t-thought you were dead.” Ruby hiccups. “And of—of  _ course _ they’d rebuild you I don’t know why I thought they wouldn’t but I didn’t… I d-didn’t think you’d be the same even if they  _ did _ .”

Oh.  _ Oh. _ That would certainly do it.

“I try not to think about the end,” Penny says, a tad softer. “I try to remember the good times before. I didn’t expect to ever see  _ you _ again, but I didn’t think… well, there are quite a few people who think I don’t think at all. Because, you know.” She taps the side of her head.

“Beep boop.”

“Yes. Beep boop.”

Ruby sniffles. “I didn’t—I’m sorry. You’re busy, aren’t you, I-I heard that you were the Protector of Mantle now?”

“You heard absolutely correct! I’m here to make sure nothing happens to Future Councilwoman Robyn Hill! Why anyone in Mantle  _ would _ try and hurt her, I don’t know, but the General certainly seems to think someone will try.”

“Better safe than sorry?” Ruby wipes her eyes. “Do you mind if I just… hang out here, for a bit? With you?”

“Not at all!” If Ruby hadn’t suggested it, Penny likely would have herself. “I need to return to my post, but I’ll be right here if you need me.” She takes Ruby’s hand in hers, gives it a squeeze, and then leaps back up to the side of the stage with a smile.

Marrow looks at her from the other side with a raised eyebrow. Penny beams innocently at him.

* * *

A little digital push is just what these voters need. And who is Watts to not deliver it? His fingers dance across the scrolls, rings doing exactly what he created them to do. Slowly, oh so slowly, Jacques Schnee catches up to Robyn Hill. Not too fast, and of course he needs to sprinkle in enough votes for the upstart huntress to not arouse suspicion…

Of course, by the time Tyrian’s done with her, it won’t matter at all who won. Still. Best not to leave things to chance. Tyrian is  _ remarkably _ good when it comes to ensuring his targets don’t walk away, but he failed with the Rose girl.

Should he fail again, it won’t matter. Jacques Schnee will have won his seat on the Council—but only just barely. And barely is more than enough for what they have planned.

* * *

Of course, by the time Ruby finds Team JNR again, they’re arguing about… something. Ruby isn’t even sure what. She’s not even sure if she wants to know what they’re arguing about. Honestly, if she’s learned nothing else during her time as friends with them, it’s to  _ not _ get between those three. Ever. Particularly not when food is involved, although she’s at least reasonably sure this isn’t about food.

She’s  _ not _ dealing with that right now, and Penny is back on guard duty, and she still isn’t sure where Eudico is or what she’s doing. No idea about Ticker, either. Maybe they’re doing each other—but somehow she doubts that. Lis muttered something about finding the bathroom and disappeared about ten minutes ago, which Ruby can’t fault her for at all.

There’s only a few minutes left until the election’s over. The vote is, currently, 45 to 55 percent in Robyn’s favor. It’s a little closer than Ruby would think, particularly considering that Jacques Schnee is  _ Jacques Schnee, _ but Robyn’s still ahead. That’s the important part.

And then she isn’t, and then everything goes wrong.

* * *

Someone’s killed the lights. And somehow, Jaune doesn’t think that’s the only thing they’ll be killing tonight. He might be off-duty, he might not have Crocea Mors but he still has his semblance and plenty of aura to fuel it with. He might not be able to see shit in the dark, no one can without being a faunus or having a semblance to help with that, but he can still hear.

He tries not to think too hard about what Ren and Nora were just doing and reaches for the sword that isn’t there. Someone screams nearby. There’s the slashing sound of metal tearing flesh. The wet  _ thump _ of a body hitting the floor.

Jaune can’t see shit, but he charges anyway. Something— _ someone _ —grabs him by the shoulder and slams their forehead into his face. Fingers brush all down his arm as the attacker turns away, and then they’re gone. Still reeling, Jaune tries to block any further strikes with his aura, but it’s not enough.

_ Something _ cuts into the exposed flesh of his forearm. Whatever it is, it  _ hurts _ . It  _ burns _ like someone’s set his arm on fire from the inside out, and Jaune  _ screams. _ Shouldn’t his aura have stopped that? He drops to one knee, barely even managing that much, but he has to. He’s a huntsman, isn’t he? He has to do something.

Mercifully, his assailant leaves him alone after that. Except it’s not mercifully at all, because by the time the lights flicker back to life, Jaune’s one of the lucky ones that’s still breathing. He presses a hand against his arm—it helps a little—and looks.

One of the Happy Huntresses, the sheep faunus with curly white hair, was wounded too. Worse than Jaune. And more terrifyingly—Penny’s standing there, blades at the ready, as horrified as anyone else.

“Jaune!” Nora shouts, elbowing her way through a crowd that’s now much easier to get through. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine,” he lies. Ren can probably tell, but if he can he doesn’t press the issue, and for that Jaune is grateful. “My aura took the hit. I don’t think…”

He tries to call up his aura again. It shines bright, everywhere except his wounded arm. 

“At least you are alive,” Ren says optimistically. “Although your semblance could have been… it doesn’t matter now.”

“It’s Ironwood’s robot!” Someone shouts.

Penny recalls her blades and holds her hands up, shaking her head. “I didn’t. I swear, I—”

“You’ll  _ pay _ for that!”

“We can’t let this happen,” Jaune says firmly.

As if on cue, Ruby materializes next to them in a swirl of petals. “RNJR! We’ve got to do something, Penny’s in trouble and I  _ know _ she didn’t do this. Ren, can you block the negative emotions of the people in front?”

“I will do my best.”

“We’re with you,” Jaune says, perhaps a little late. “Let’s do this.”

Reunited for one more mission, Team RNJR runs for the stage. Ren disorients the frontrunners enough that the crowd stumbles, and a yell of “STAY!” from the stage stops them entirely.

“Who are… nevermind, it’s not important,” Marrow says through gritted teeth, not daring to lower his pointed finger or even take his eyes off his target. “Get her out. I’m right behind you.”

Ruby runs up to Penny and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Penny, we have to go.”

“I know,” Penny says miserably. “I didn’t… I was trying to help.”

“We know.”

And with that, Penny goes. Marrow comes sprinting after them once they’re out the back door with a final shout of, “This wasn’t us!”

The group runs, led by Marrow of all people. They take rights and then lefts and then rights again, so many turns that Jaune’s genuinely not sure where they are anymore by the time they stop. Plus side, any pursuers would have a hard time tracking them too.

“Penny, you  _ need _ to get to Atlas,” Marrow says firmly. “Backup’s on the way. We can handle whatever’s attracted by this.”

Standing at the end of the alleyway, Penny doesn’t move. She doesn’t verbally respond, instead bending her knees and rocketing off into the sky. Then, and only then, does Marrow return his attention to the others.

“What can we do to help?” Ruby asks.

“Why  _ are _ you helping us?” Marrow asks in return. “You two are from Mantle, aren’t you?”

“Well…”

“Not quite,” Nora says with a shrug.

Marrow looks at Nora, then at Ruby, then at Nora again. Realization dawns. “Hang on.  _ You’re _ Ruby Rose, and  _ you’re _ Nora Valkyrie. We’ve been looking everywhere for you! What were you doing at Robyn’s victory party?”

“Um,” Ruby says intelligently.

“Right,” Nora agrees. “About that. Funny story.”

Ruby scoots over next to Nora, plants a hand on her shoulder, and makes sure she’s gripping a fistful of shirt. “Tell Uncle Qrow we’re fine, Blake’s with us, we’ve just got some things to do down in Mantle first gotta go  _ bye!” _

And with that, to the surprise of nobody but Marrow, they’re both gone. The only trace left behind is red rose petals, and similar pink ones almost crackling with electricity.

“What the fuck,” Marrow says at last. He looks to Jaune. “Aren’t you going after them? They’re your friends.”

“No,” Jaune says. “I don’t think…”

_ We’d catch up with them anyway, _ is what he means to say. But suddenly his mouth doesn’t work. His arm’s long since gone numb, but now his legs have turned to jelly too.

Without even a hint of ceremony, he drops facedown on the street. 

* * *

“Biz. You heard?” Eudico’s voice is tense. She’s riding in the passenger seat of her own car, glancing out the side window while Ticker drives her and the two girls back home. Right now, she needs to be in charge of Vox Faunus more than she needs to be in charge of the vehicle. 

“Watched it live,” Biz responds. “I know interference when I see it. Believe me, it happens all the time in Vacuo. Not sure what we can do. Maybe Thursby–”

“Absolutely  _ not. _ A semblance in controlling tech isn’t going to fix this. And believe it or not, there’s worse news too.”

“Oh? I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

Biz can’t possibly know about the attack. No reports would be out so soon. And that means there’s something else entirely that could be worse than Jacques Schnee taking a Council seat. 

“What is it?”

“Schnee’s first order. Sent thirty seconds after the polls closed.” Biz pauses just long enough for Eudico to realize the significance of that timing. Schnee had polled at only 37% just yesterday, and he was still so confident of a win that he had this all prepared in advance. 

“He wants Vox gone,” Biz continues. “Again. He’s authorized–” A heavy sigh interrupts the bad news. “You remember Shaft 12?”

How could she not? Waking up buried in the remnants of what used to be a mineshaft, three hours after a dust explosion, isn’t something Eudico would ever like to repeat. The blast itself had been a mile away, but she’d been the nearest survivor, there in what used to be Shaft 12. That was the name that stuck. And the repression afterwards…

Profits before lives. Always. Especially before faunus lives. That much gravity dust would have sold for tens of millions of lien, easily. The devil had wanted his due, and he’d extracted it from the backs of every mine worker still standing – and the old Vox in particular.

_ Exploiter. _ The name still brings dread to Eudico’s mind. A state of the art prototype mech, the only one of its kind built before the research had shifted to developing the smaller and cheaper Paladins. Jacques Schnee had funded the project, so he was given control of the mech after the military decided they didn’t want it. 

Eudico has a sinking feeling in her gut, but she has to ask. “I remember. How bad is it?”

“He’s got another spider mech.”

The sinking feeling drops further, straight through dread and into terror, hovering just above the border of despair. Exploiter was decommissioned after the massacre it led. Its pilot, four feet of rage and ego by the name of Caroline Cordovin, had been shipped off to Argus where she’d be out of sight and hopefully out of trouble. Vox had survived, barely, after the military put a stop to Schnee’s revenge, and they’d limped along another year before finally falling apart. 

And now he has another one. He wants to do it all again. And with a seat on the Council, however illegitimate, even the General can’t override his orders unilaterally. 

“Is he… Is it coming  _ now?” _

“I’m afraid so. LD’s got it on scanners. It’s headed for the mine entrance, looks like. Internal comms say it’s called Profit-Taker.”

Eudico glances back at Ruby and Nora in the back seats, but they’ve already picked up on the trouble ahead from her side of the conversation. “No time to evacuate, I’m guessing. Get everyone as deep below the surface as you can. I’m on my way.” She holds the scroll away from her head for a moment to direct Ticker, then returns. “Wait. You and LD are working together now?”

“We both want Vox to live,” Biz says simply. “And it will. I’ve got some new gear I’ve been meaning to try out…”

“Biz… Not until I get there. Let me talk first. But if you want to set up some snipers, go right ahead.”

“Got it.” He sounds a little disappointed, but not terribly so. The weapons will come out soon enough. There’s no talking a Schnee enforcer down once they’ve got orders. 

Eudico sighs, loud enough to be audible through the connection. “This still feels like the end for all of us. A fool’s errand to try and fight back. But we’ve got more allies than ever, so if you think we can do it, I’ll try. And if we go down fighting, there’s a whole city full of angry people ready to take our place.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. You’ve got five minutes.” The unmistakable sound of a heavy crate lid clanging against the floor echoes through Eudico’s scroll, and then Biz hangs up. 

Eudico pockets the device and turns to Ruby and Nora in the back. “We’ve got trouble.”

“Sounds serious,” Ruby says. 

“It is. How good are you kids at fighting enormous mechs?”

Nora bursts out laughing. “Oh, no problem! That’s how we got here. We took down this  _ giant _ robo-suit in Argus after we got caught trying to steal an airship from the military base, except it turned out they needed that to fight Grimm and we’d just wrecked it, but it’s okay, Ruby did a thing, Argus is still standing and we got away to Atlas.”

“That Cordovin didn’t stand a chance,” Ruby adds. 

The car’s movement jerks as both Ticker and Eudico choke in surprise. “You – you fought  _ Cordovin? _ ” Eudico manages. “And  _ won? _ ”

Ruby and Nora look at each other. It wasn’t  _ that _ hard. If it comes down to it, Ruby can always fly up the barrel of a giant cannon to sabotage it from within again. 

“Maybe there’s hope after all…” Eudico grits her teeth. “I hope you’re ready to do it again. Because here we are.”

Ticker parks the car at the edge of the open field leading up to the mine entrance, and everyone bails out. Two people come running to meet them: Biz and Zuud. LD is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably the point. She’ll be around somewhere, ready to put a bullet or ten in the weak points of whoever or whatever comes knocking. 

“Take these.” Biz shoves some small electronics into everyone’s hands. “Short range comm links. Should all be set up already. You kids, call your friends. I’ve got weapons for twenty over in those crates.” He points to a secluded spot out of direct sight of the open area. “Zuud and I have been busy.”

“Be prepared,” Eudico says once she’s got her headset on. “But let me talk to them first. Vox or not, I’m still Floor Boss of this sector. That  _ should _ give them pause, at least.”

Ruby and Nora are both on their scrolls, typing furiously to their friends. Weiss, Blake, and Yang would be a great help in a fight. Jaune, Ren, and Oscar probably can’t do much if they’re under military jurisdiction, but they still need to know. If there’s anything they or Ironwood  _ can _ do, the sooner the better. 

Just in time too, as a massive steel leg sets down over the hill at the far edge of the mine’s loading field. It pulls and a hint of a round body comes into view, dragged along by another massive leg with tip easily forty feet away from the first. Profit-Taker, just like the Exploiter before it: a giant, four-legged spider covered in heavy armor plating and even heavier weaponry. A fitting mother to the line of Orb robots that never came to fruition, replaced by the humanoid Paladins instead. 

Eudico walks forward to the center of the field and stops. The spider-mech settles down in front of her, far enough back that it can target the lone woman with dozens of guns from around its body. 

“What in the Void do you think you’re  _ doing?” _ Eudico challenges. “I am Eudico Bruin, Floor Boss, and I  _ demand _ to know why my mine and my workers are being threatened with all this!”

“The Company has received intelligence that suggests the terrorist group Vox Faunus is operating out of this sector,” a male voice answers smoothly. “But I suppose you knew that already. As you said, you’re the boss.”

“My job is to make sure my workers are safe and at peak performance,” Eudico replies. “Neither of those is true for people with a gun pointed at them.”

“Your  _ job _ ,” the Orb’s pilot says, “is the same as everyone else’s: to generate profits for the Schnee Dust Company. Harboring violent criminals and saboteurs hardly seems like the way to do that.”

On the edge of the field, Zuud balls her hands into fists. “That voice,” she says, almost a growl. Ruby turns to face her, but Zuud is paying her no mind. Her head jerks suddenly to one side, and she slaps herself twice across the ear – and the earpiece she wears there. “That’s him in there,” she mutters to herself again, but this time the words are echoed through everyone’s comms. “We’re going to kill him, and he’ll deserve it seven times over.”

“Who?” LD’s question is simple, and open to interpretation on who exactly she’s asking about. 

Zuud practically jumps at the sound through her earpiece, unaware that her words had gone to the full group. A quick  _ shhh _ from Eudico stops LD from clarifying. Not while she’s concentrating. 

“Jacques did tell me you were suspicious,” the Orb pilot taunts, voice carrying easily across the empty space. “Of course, to him everyone is a suspect, so I took it upon myself to find out more. And what I found led me straight back to  _ you _ , Eudico Bruin.”

Eudico stares the mech down even as a cannon barrel lowers from the bottom of the spider’s body. She speaks, and the words come out not in her own voice, but in the loud, distorted sound of the false Jacques Schnee seen on Vox broadcasts. 

“I am not Vox Faunus,” she says, even as her semblance proves she’s the one behind the group’s transmissions. “No one is. Vox Faunus is all of us. It is every beaten, downtrodden worker who’s ever set foot in this place. We are nothing more than the faunus united – and nothing  _ less _ than the gathered anger of thousands. We are simply those who have decided to be quiet no longer, and with every new abuse you make us stronger and louder. We will not be ignored. We will not be subdued. Vox Faunus will endure. The faunus people will be triumphant!”

Biz calls out to her over the comms. “Eudi, get out of there!” 

But she can see the bottom-mounted laser cannon heating up just as well as everyone else, and still she stands her ground. “Nothing you do here will bring victory,” she lectures the spider. “You have united an entire kingdom against you. Vox Faunus is only the beginning of what–”

The laser’s charging levels off, and Eudico’s companions can wait no longer. As Biz repeats his warning and LD chimes in as well, Zuud merely raises one arm and points at the figure of Eudico across the way. 

There is a brief flash of violet aura, and suddenly Zuud vanishes, Eudico appearing in her place. She looks around at Ruby and Nora, confused, only to startle and turn back to the Orb as the cannon fires. An enormous cloud of dust and vaporized snow covers the middle of the loading bay and the members of Vox Faunus cough and cover their faces. 

“Gods… Did she just…” Nora stares, dumbfounded. “Zuud switched with you, didn’t she? But…” There’s no way anyone could survive a direct hit from  _ that _ , is there? Even a full aura would be broken instantly by that kind of force. 

“Zuud…” Eudico seems more confused than anything. “I’ve  _ seen _ Rudy’s semblance, and  _ that’s not it. _ Switch teleport wasn’t hers, it was…”

She trails off as the dust begins to settle. There’s someone there, in the center of the cloud.  _ Still _ there, despite the beyond-lethal blast. Somehow, Zuud is still standing. 

And in typical Zuud style, she’s facing down the Orb with two middle fingers raised. 

As the last of the cloud wafts away, Eudico can see that her teammate’s aura isn’t even flickering. It shines the same dirty yellow as her favorite jacket, bright and strong, except… 

What  _ is _ that? Streaks of other colors twist over Zuud’s body. The violet seen just before the switch, also deep indigo and green… on closer look, even two shades of red-orange as well among the yellow, and a white that’s more than the bright overlap of the various coils. Pale yellow still predominates, but there’s practically a full rainbow mixed into it, in constant motion. 

The middle fingers curl down until Zuud is simply raising her fists again. She pulls back her right arm, and punches upward into the air in front of her. A wide, circular blast of energy forms alongside her fist and flies out to strike the front of the mech, and the entire spider shudders back a step under the impact. 

“Remember us?” Zuud yells. “You should, after what you did!”

The giant mech’s pilot gives a response with remarkable composure, given the sight. “Afraid not. A survivor from the old Vox, I assume?”

“This isn’t about Vox anymore,” Zuud snarls. “This is fucking  _ personal. _ Think a little harder and remember who you murdered,  _ Arthur Watts. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	18. Part 2 Episode 4: One For All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare of the old Vox has returned, and alongside their new allies Team RWBY (and Nora), everyone is in for the fight of their lives against the Profit-Taker Orb. Although for Zuud, it's less about the machine and more its pilot. And while a battle rages on the outskirts of Mantle, others are still recovering from a surprise attack.

Rudy Zuud has always been a vessel just barely containing an immeasurable anger. She’s a walking example of the theory that semblances are a reflection of one’s personality. Catchmoon, she calls hers. A punch that throws off a ring of heat and concussive force, strong enough that an unlucky target will feel like they just tried to catch the falling moon. Good for clearing mine debris and SDC enforcers alike, and a staple of the old Vox’s operations. 

Not switch teleport. Not whatever it was that let her absorb an entire cannon worth of energy and send it back in her next moon-dropping punch. Those definitely look like semblances, but they are  _ not Rudy. _

And now there she goes with another. Translucent green butterfly wings unfurl from her back and Zuud flies upward to hover in front of Profit-Taker’s pilot compartment. A pair of catchmoon blasts fly into the glass, but the giant Orb seems to shrug off the impact. In response, the spider’s head opens up to reveal a cluster of rocket launchers, every one aimed at the single form directly in front of them. 

Zuud’s body shimmers and splits into multiple copies, each winged like the original, and they scatter in all directions around the spider. Rockets pursue them all, their tracking only momentarily confused before each chooses a single target. Four take direct hits, and flicker white before vanishing. One steers its pursuer into the Orb’s own leg before another rocket locks on and obliterates it. One raises a hand – no, that has to be the real Zuud – and points at the last copy hovering over top of the spider’s back. She swaps places with her own duplicate and lets the illusion take the hit. 

She drops down to stand firmly on the Orb’s back, and slams both hands down on the hard metal. A shockwave passes through the spider’s body and its four giant legs slip just a little to find a new footing. 

“How in the  _ Void _ is she doing that?” Eudico murmurs, staring dumbfounded from the sidelines. Next to her, Ruby and Nora are having much the same thoughts. There’s the possibility of magic – after all, the Summer Maiden is still unaccounted for – but from what they can see, Zuud’s eyes are not ringed in fire like they’d expect. 

A cylindrical shell of blue hard-light shielding forms over the spider’s back and expands rapidly outward, pushing Zuud back to tumble to the ground. It picks up the nearest leg and electricity crackles along its length as it stomps down in Zuud’s direction, releasing a wave of energy along the ground in a narrow cone. Zuud stands her ground and raises a middle finger toward the Orb, and the wave breaks around her as the bulk of its energy is absorbed into her fist. 

“What is it with rabbit faunus and being secret badasses?” Ruby asks aloud. At Eudico’s questioning glance she explains, “One of our friends, Velvet Scarlatina – she has bunny ears, and at the Fall of Beacon she took down a Paladin all by herself. No one had any idea she was capable of it. And Zuud has bunny whiskers, right?”

“That’s right. She and her sisters were all rabbits, but each of their traits was different.” Eudico looks between Ruby and Nora. “We’d better help her out though. Check with Biz, see if he’s got any stronger firepower for you.”

“Uh, Eudico,” another voice begins, and Eudico whirls around to see Ticker still standing there awkwardly. “Might be a little out of my depth here. I’d love to help, got a semblance, but… don’t actually have any weapon training. Or physical endurance, for that matter.” 

“Got your scroll?” Eudico asks, and Ticker nods. “Sparkle yourself up to a nice roof around here and start filming. Not streaming, we’ll decide what to do with the footage later. But I want to have this on record.”

“Got it.” Ticker gives a wave of goodbye, and vanishes in a flash of pink stardust. 

From somewhere on a nearby rooftop, hopefully not the same one Ticker was headed for, Little Duck lets loose some of Biz’s stronger firepower. A solid metal slug accelerated by magnetism to incredible velocity slams into the spider mech’s front window, but the web of cracks it forms is small. The sniper’s voice comes through everyone’s earpieces, “Either that thing has some state of the art bulletproof glass, or it’s using an energy shield of some sort. Or both. Biz, see if there’s a signal to track.”

“On it.” From behind his crates, Biz holds up a scanner and waves off Ruby, Nora, and Eudico as they approach. “Yep, looks like it’s got a link up to Atlas somewhere. Not on Schnee property but close by. We have anyone in the area?”

“I do,” Ruby says. “Uncle Qrow can get there. Just give him a few minutes. Send me the tracking info and I’ll forward it along.”

Across the field, Zuud weaves between the mech’s legs, firing blast after blast of heat into its underside. The spider slams its body down on the ground and a pulse of energy ripples outward from the impact – Zuud simply takes to the air again, but Biz and Ruby stumble and their scroll screens flicker momentarily as the wave passes over them. 

“Adaptive shielding, huh?” Zuud yells up at the mech. “Don’t think that will save you! I’m the most versatile fighter in the kingdom.  _ You _ made sure of that!” She lets off a fast volley consisting of semblance-enhanced punches, backward slashes with her razor-sharp glowing wings, and a hail of piercing bullets from two of the who knows how many weapons on her person. 

Biz reaches into his stash of weapons and pulls out a giant quad-barreled cannon. “Eudico, take the grattler. Target the legs. You kids, what do you want?”

“Our weapons aren’t enough?”

“Doubtful, against that. You use a sniper-scythe, right? I’ve got a kaszas. LD took the velocitus, but I still have a fluctus? Cyngas? Imperator?”

Nora cuts in first with a different request. “You got a big hammer?”

“Rathbone, here you go.” Biz hands her an enormous double-headed hammer, taller than Nora herself and weighing almost as much. 

“One more thing. Raw dust crystals. Lightning.”

“Right here.” Biz pops open a separate crate to take care of her request, and finally just shoves a random gun at the indecisive Ruby. 

Ruby narrows her eyes as Nora sets down the massive hammer and takes dust crystals in both hands. “Nora… what are you doing?”

“Learning.” Nora meets her gaze with a ferocious stare. “From the toughest fighter I’ve ever met.” 

Nora shrugs off the jacket she’s worn ever since leaving Beacon and lets it fall to the ground behind her. Before Ruby can stop her – Biz doesn’t even try – she crosses her arms and jams the sharp points of the crystals into her opposite biceps. Her veins bulge with yellow as the dust enters her bloodstream, and she screams in pain. 

After a few seconds she brings it under control, though she still grimaces in obvious discomfort. She hefts the rathbone hammer in one hand like it’s nothing, and charges in toward the Profit-Taker Orb. 

She doesn’t even slow as she approaches the target. All that momentum keeps going, and Nora uses it for extra strength behind her first swing of the enormous slab of metal into the spider-mech’s nearest ankle. A deafening clang washes over the group and Ruby nearly drops her new heavy gun in shock – but when she can look again, there’s a noticeable dent in the smooth finish of the Orb’s leg. 

But only a dent. Profit-Taker’s shielding stops the hit from damaging any of the internal components, and a twitch of the leg tosses Nora back a solid ten feet. The bottom-mounted cannon swivels to point in her direction and begins to heat up again. 

On the other side of the Orb, Zuud sees the turret turn away from her and follows it with her eyes. She flies straight upward and hovers over the spider’s back, just long enough to point down at Nora and swap their positions. Once on the ground she immediately takes off again, hovering to the mech’s side where the cannon below cannot target. 

Blue shield walls erupt from the mech once again, throwing Zuud and Nora both away before the latter’s hammer can make contact. On the bottom side the cannon swivels again as the pilot refuses to let that charge go to waste. Ruby takes a shot at it and watches with wide eyes as an arc of energy flies out of her weapon and splashes over the cannon’s mount – again without noticeable damage. And she seems to be the next target, prompting a short burst of her semblance to fly up and perch on top of the mine yard’s border fence. 

“Watts!” Zuud’s furious shout catches everyone’s attention once again as she flits around the spider’s front. “You thought faking your death would save you? All you’ve done is stop people from looking closely when we kill you for real! Just like you murdered  _ me, _ over and over again!”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Watts says, and launches another volley of rockets. 

“Then let us remind you,” Zuud snarles. “We survived the Shaft 12 accident! All seven of us! And  _ we _ took the fall to keep the blame off Eudico! The Zuud sisters were the entirety of Vox, to Jacques and to  _ you. _ But you didn’t even care who we were. We were just test subjects to you! Just  _ rabbits, _ nothing more!”

Profit-Taker pauses for just a moment. “Oh… I think I remember you, now.”

“You’d better!” Zuud manages to dodge a hard-light barrier and throws another catchmoon shot into the glass over Watts’s face. “You and that Void-damned machine! What did you think you’d accomplish, sucking the life out of my body and shoving it into Rudy like that? All of us, seven into one! What kind of scientist are you, who doesn’t even keep a control group?”

This seems to hit a nerve, and Watts shifts the whole mech to keep facing Zuud as she flies around. The top of the spider’s hard shell slides open again, farther back than the compartment for rockets, and out comes a single massive mortar cannon instead. Zuud flies directly at it and lands on the mech’s back. 

“Go ahead, shoot me! See what happens. I  _ defy _ you, as we always have! That’s what you did to us. You created your own doom, and then cast her aside when you were finished.” A message comes through Zuud’s earpiece and she steps aside to give Little Duck a clear shot at the cannon, only to find it shielded just as heavily as the exterior. 

“Seven auras on one body! Seven  _ semblances _ in one body! What did you think you were creating, if not a supersoldier who hates your guts?!”

Still Watts holds his fire, and concentrates on knocking down Eudico and Ruby down below with electric discharges from the spider’s front legs. His arrays of scanners inside tell him Zuud is still standing on his back with a middle finger raised at the mortar, ready to divert all of its force right back into Profit-Taker itself, so he’ll have to do something to break that concentration first. Even as Zuud continues to yell at him. 

“Remember our names! Know them well, because they’ll be the last thing you ever hear!” Zuud pulls back her other arm while keeping up the gesture with the first, and releases a blast of heat down the mortar’s barrel. “My name is Rudy!”

A rectangular blue shield forms to her side and pushes her off the spider’s back, but the moment it dissipates she flies back up and circles the cannon as it slowly tracks her. “My name is Mab!” The aura over her body flickers briefly with the same green as her wings. 

The flickering shifts to white instead. “My name is Lynn!” Zuud shouts, and disperses into multiple copies of herself once again. This time they are met not with rockets, but a group of four lasers fired from the spider’s upward-facing knees. 

“My name is Sif!” Zuud swaps places in an instant with one of the clones, then jumps again to place Ruby there instead. She glides back in again from where Ruby had been sniping with her wide plasma bolts. 

The mortar finally fires as Zuud is just about to land. Her arm snaps up at the sound of it, and the subsequent explosion fails to even knock her down. “My name is Indigo!” she yells as the dust settles around her, with the same color briefly flaring over her body. 

Instead of pulling back her fist to release her stored energy in a punch, Zuud draws a pair of pistols instead and activates another semblance. Peacemaker, which grants speed and perfect aim to any weaponry, so long as she doesn’t move. “My name is Sandy!” she calls out, and releases a volley of enhanced shots into every joint of the spider’s nearer two legs. 

Zuud sprints forward, holstering her pistols again and letting the pale orange glow around her hands shift into something more rust-colored. She plants both palms on the spider’s leg and calls up to the pilot above, “My name is Melody!” as she sends an intense shockwave through the metal. 

Profit-Taker’s front right leg buckles and its pilot is jerked to the side of his compartment. He throws levers angrily, setting the enormous spider down on its belly – and releasing another volley of lasers while he’s at it – so he can then lift himself back up on four legs again without losing his balance. 

Zuud runs around to the front to face him down through the reinforced glass. She raises a middle finger again even though there’s nothing targeting her to defy, and leans in close. “Our name is  _ Zuud,” _ she says. “And you’re going to regret the day you ever messed with any of us.” 

* * *

The very last thing Qrow is expecting at this time of night is a string of frantic texts from Ruby. But that sure the hell  _ is _ what he’s getting at this time of night, and unfortunately it’s not a string of frantic texts involving, say, girl problems. He’d gotten quite a few from Yang about that earlier, and a quick one an hour later thanking him for the advice, so Yang probably has at least one girlfriend now, if not two.

But Ruby’s forwarded a set of coordinates for somewhere in Atlas, somewhere in the general vicinity of the Schnee Manor if he had to guess. Apparently it’s something she wants him to destroy, and  _ now _ . Some kind of shield generator.

For  _ what? _

His scroll lets out another audible ping as another text comes through. Something about… five years ago, Mantle, Vox Faunus? How the  _ hell _ does Ruby know what Vox Faunus is, or what they were up to while she was still in non-combat middle school?

Unless… 

Qrow decides not to think too much harder about whatever illegal stuff his nieces are involved in now, and heads for the window. He looks around before pulling it open, more on instinct than anything else. The only other people crazy enough to be up in the common areas this late are either on a field trip to Mantle (Jaune and Ren) or actually sticking to a good sleeping schedule for once to prepare for his first semester at Atlas Academy (Oscar).

Then he looks down. A few quick taps at his scroll brings up the coordinates as an actual place on a map, aerial view. Just how he likes it. His gut feeling about it being near if not on Schnee property was right after all.

He types out a quick message in return— _ what am I looking for? _ —and changes. Qrow plummets from the windowsill in a tight dive, then spreads his wings and soars on an updraft from a vent.

Qrow has always loved flying. Who wouldn’t? But there’s no time to enjoy it now. Atlas is, for the most part, well-lit at night. That makes his job  _ much _ easier.

Eventually he spots it, and swoops down. Still in bird form, he looks up at the building.

_ 37 Fortuna Way, _ reads a plaque near the probably-locked door. The street is deserted, there aren’t any visible cameras and they tend to glitch out when he shifts anyway. He flies in, changes just inside the doorway, and kicks the door in.

Or, more accurately, he kicks the door intending to kick it in, and it doesn’t budge. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and reaches for Harbinger.

He’s barely gotten inside and reopened his scroll when, in the distance, something  _ booms _ . Once, and then again, and then silence.

Ruby’s texted back. She’s not sure either, but it’s definitely some kind of shield generator, whatever that might look like. She needs it disabled before the spider hits anyone. 

What spider? What is going  _ on _ down in Mantle? 

Qrow considers asking her if she’s involved with whatever made the booms, but thinks better of it.  _ Obviously _ that’s the kind of thing she’d get herself involved with. He turns on his scroll’s flashlight instead and takes a look around. So far, the building looks like… a warehouse.

A  _ Schnee _ warehouse, there’s the logo on a nearby crate, but still a warehouse, and a disused one at that. No dust here, nothing useful, just empty boxes.

Then the lights flicker on. And Qrow  _ freezes. _

_ “What are  _ you _ doing here?” _ Someone asks from a hidden speaker. A woman’s voice, but not one he recognizes. 

“Company huntsman, thought I heard someone break in here,” Qrow drawls, doing his best to look bored and  _ not _ like a deer in headlights. “Must’ve scared them off. Doesn’t look like they took anything, but can’t be sure. I’ll just finish checking and be on my way.”

Silence. Then,  _ “You might have fooled me if I didn’t know very well that the SDC doesn’t hire actual huntsmen, just wannabes who can’t get into an Academy and can’t pass the tests on their own. And if I didn’t recognize you from elsewhere.” _

Qrow raises an eyebrow. Whoever this is, they certainly hold no love for the SDC themself. “I’m guessing that means you don’t work for them either.”

His new friend snorts.  _ “Please. I’d rather be a bootlicker like you. At least the military  _ thinks _ they’re doing the right thing.” _

“I’m not a  _ bootlicker, _ come  _ on. _ I’m helping out an old friend with something, otherwise I wouldn’t set foot  _ near _ Atlas.” Or fly near Atlas, for that matter, but he’s not about to say that much out loud. “I’m not here on military business, anyway, and I’d  _ really _ appreciate it if you could not let them know I’m here. Or the SDC, obviously.”

_ “I’ll consider it, five o’clock shadow. You still haven’t said why you’re here.” _

“Five o’cl—come  _ on _ , I don’t get  _ that _ little sleep. And I don’t think I really want to tell some disembodied voice why I’m here. Since whatever the reason is, it’s clearly not legal.”

He keeps looking for the generator. Hopefully he’ll at least know it when he sees it. 

_ “Well there’s not much in this building,” _ the voice points out.  _ “Just you and that big machine the company carted in a couple weeks ago and hid in the back left corner behind some empty boxes. That’s it. Even I’m not physically here.” _

At this point Qrow doesn’t even care if he’s taking some kind of bait by looking where the voice tells him. He’s wasted enough time talking already, and the frantic texts are piling up. 

But when he gets back there, there really is… something. Qrow’s decent at understanding mechanical stuff – pretty good, actually, after years of teaching students at Signal to build weapons, and helping Yang do repairs on her motorcycle – but electronics have never been his strong suit. Sure, this waist-high roughly cubical object might as well be a shield generator. Could be anything, as far as he knows. 

He slides open his scroll and sends a quick  _ Found it! _ to Ruby. 

_ “Huh. You really aren’t from Atlas. Your scroll doesn’t have the latest military security.” _ The voice continues to speak calmly, even as Qrow pulls out his weapon and looks for the best place to strike at the strange machine.  _ “You know, I was just talking to someone named Ruby an hour ago. That wouldn’t happen to be Rose you’re texting, would it?” _

Qrow freezes again. “Who are you and how do you know my niece?”

_ “Name’s Lis. I’m a huntress. And I would be  _ happy _ to help you sabotage Schnee property.” _

* * *

“Sorry we’re late!” Yang calls out as she and the rest of Team RWBY arrive at the mine entrance. “I’m a bit slower without Bumblebee – may she rest in peace. Worth it for Adam’s face, though. What have we got?”

Ruby hops down from her perch on a high fencepost, and points. “Right there, the Profit-Taker Orb. We’re going to wreck it. Ideally before it wrecks us or the mine.”

“Sounds good. Is that–” Yang breaks off as a thunderous clang blasts across the field. “Wow, Nora sure is going ham over there. New weapon?”

Ruby nods. “Yep. Go see Biz first. He’s got the stuff.” In a swirl of petals she’s back up on the fence, sniping with her wide plasma arcs. Now that the Orb’s shields are disrupted, each bolt sears a line across the metal, and if she can just plant one across a joint… but the plasma travels slower than the bullets she’s used to, and it’s been hard to adjust. 

The three girls run across the brown grass to where Ruby had indicated before returning to her post. Blake leads the way and points out Biz to the others: noticeable enough with his wolf tail, even more so with the rocket launcher he has slung over his shoulder. 

“Hey, Biz! We were told you had… the stuff?”

“One way of putting it.” Biz slips back behind the tall crates he’s been using as cover. “Big enemy requires some big weapons. Grab what you want and get out there.” He taps the crate he’s leaning against. “I’ll cover you while you look in here. Grab an earpiece too, over there.”

Biz breaks from the shelter and runs sideways, shooting off missiles at each of the mech’s four legs. Between him, Eudico, and Nora, they keep the retaliatory lasers busy while Zuud still harries the spider from above. 

“Ooh, look at this.” Yang holds up a pair of giant gauntlets and looks at the label. “Called the knux, apparently. I think I’ve got my heavy weapon.”

“None of these really suit me,” Blake says, grimacing at the pile of armaments before her. 

“Or me,” Weiss echoes. “Not really our styles.”

Yang shrugs. “Can’t be too hard to just point one of these at the enemy and pull the trigger.” She leans down into the crate and returns with a short, thick cylinder of a cannon whose barrel flares outward at the tip, painted a truly alarming purple. 

“That one’s mine!” Biz’s voice comes suddenly from the side. “Larkspur goes well with my semblance.” He returns to swap out his launcher for the short cannon, and tosses a pair of serious-looking pistols to Blake. “Try the dual decurion. Schnee, you might want to just use your semblance to help.”

Across the field, one of Zuud’s shockwaves tears through the Orb’s back right leg and it stumbles, off balance. The mortar shot it had been lining up flies wide, landing in the tundra beyond the mine with a massive explosion. 

“Three more! Light ‘em up!” Biz and Yang sprint together toward the Orb, only splitting at the last moment to target separate legs while Nora brings her enormous hammer to bear on the last. 

Blue shields erupt one after another in a circle, aimed to shove the attackers off. Yang tumbles back and Biz merely kneels and lets himself be pushed without breaking his pose, adjusting his aim like it’s no big deal at all. Only Nora manages to avoid the barrier, diving to her right where a hard-light wall has just passed barely before the one in front of her makes contact. 

Zuud takes a quick rest from pummeling the mech to fly upward once again, and she switch-teleports with Yang to leave the girl standing atop the spider’s back, just behind the mortar. Yang blinks and looks around in shock, but still gets two punches out before the cannon sinks back into the Orb’s protected interior. 

Another leg slips and the giant spider falls to its lower knees on both back legs. While inside Watts struggles to right it, a well placed slug from Little Duck deftly takes out the laser mechanism on the back right’s upper knee. 

With Nora keeping the front right occupied, Biz circles around to the front left and raises his larkspur to ready position. He pulls the trigger and electricity erupts from the cannon’s flared end, forming a bright glowing chain from him to the Orb. It locks onto the nearest leg and stays fixed there even as the spider kicks at him and Biz leaps out of the way. 

For a full fifteen seconds uninterrupted the jagged chain pumps energy into the spider’s leg, until the small battery in Biz’s strange but powerful weapon is drained. He ejects it into his hand, but makes no move to discard it or insert a new one. Instead, his aura sparks up for a moment, and then Biz snaps the same battery back into place. With its power source reset in time to the state it was in just a short while ago, the larkspur reignites its electric arc. 

Watts manages to repair one leg just in time for another to fail, tipping him and his mech from resting backward to resting on one side instead. He swears, and the words are projected out to everyone before he remembers to turn off the loudspeaker. 

“Hey, Watts!” Ruby yells up at him. “If Tyrian is under orders not to hurt my friends, shouldn’t you be too?” 

Watts clears his throat. “I received no order to that effect,” he says. “I’m here as a personal favor to my good friend Jacques, so he doesn’t have to find someone… legally living… to pilot his creation. After all, the last person in my position was forced to move kingdoms afterward.”

“If you were smart, you’d do the same right now!” Zuud adds. “But you’re not even going to  _ live _ to escape Atlas. Not after we’re done with you!”

The spider-mech’s last legs crumple under the combined assault of Vox Faunus and their allies. Watts’s attention is taken off weapons as he tries to get everything operational again, leaving him wide open for a focused attack on the core. 

“Eudico, get on!” Weiss extends a hand down from her queen lancer mount to pull the woman aboard. They fly forward and Weiss stands atop the insect’s back, holding up one hand to call forth a stack of glyphs one in front of another. “Shoot through the glyphs,” she orders. “It’s a team attack I do with Ruby.”

Eudico’s four-barreled grattler fires a half dozen rounds per second through the circles Weiss has marked for her, and each heavy bullet picks up a coating of the ice dust infused into the glyphs. As the lancer circles around, they leave a trail of jagged ice protruding in a wide swath around the spider’s main body, blocking the pilot’s vision outside and interfering with its self-stabilizing sensors. 

“Yang, grab my hammer!” Nora points as she yells, over by the weapons stash where she’d dropped Magnhild in favor of the rathbone. 

Yang runs over to pick it up, balancing the weapon carefully between her own oversized metal gauntlets. But Nora doesn’t seem interested in taking it back. 

“Open it up! We’re doing a bootleg Pomegrenade!” Nora pushes the button on the side to unfold the handle, and swats the knux out of Yang’s hands to make sure she has a good grip on Magnhild. “I can throw you higher than you can throw me. Let’s go!” 

And before Yang can protest, Nora’s hands are around her waist, and she’s violently heaved into the air. 

There’s not much time to think when you’re hurtling through the sky with an unfamiliar weapon in your hands. Nora usually spins head over heels when doing this move, right? It’s all Yang can do not to flail her arms and legs helplessly as she rises then falls. But Nora’s aim seems to be good, she’s coming down right over the spider’s back – if only she can land hammer side first, and let the force of impact go into the weapon and not into her. 

Somehow she gets the hammer out in front of her and even gives it a bit of a swing as she comes down, but misses the rest of the landing. There’s quite a dent in the Orb’s carapace now, just behind the mortar cannon – a few feet further forward might have done some real damage, but Yang isn’t sure that hit will impair it much at all. And before she can scamble to her feet and try to hit the proper spot, she’s sliding down the back of the rounded body and tumbles to the ground. 

Just in time, too, as the spot she passed over suddenly becomes coated in jagged ice. 

A voice comes through everyone’s comm links. “I’ve taken out three of the four lasers,” Little Duck reports. “Can’t get a clean shot on the farthest but I’ll keep at it. Everyone okay?”

“Not sure I’m helping much but I’m fine,” Blake says. 

“Good here too,” Yang chimes in after her. “Still at seventy percent, ish.”

“Sixty,” Biz and Ruby both say at the same time. 

Eudico doesn’t give a number herself. “What about you, Zuud? How much are all those semblances taking out of you?”

“Not enough,” comes the response. “I’ve got as much aura as the rest of you combined, because of this fucker. Don’t worry about me.”

“Mech’s not looking so hot,” Yang points out. “Won’t be taking much profit after this beating.”

“We’re doing well,” Biz confirms. “Nora, if you can smash the bottom cannon, then – oof!” Biz, along with Yang and Nora, are suddenly pushed back by a hard-light shield. But they’re the lucky ones, as shards of ice are launched over them to blanket the field. “Looks like the legs are trying to fix themselves,” he continues. “Keep at it, we can take him down before too long.”

“I don’t want him to go down quick,” Zuud growls. “I need him to  _ hurt.” _

On the top of Profit-Taker’s back, the armored plates slide open once again to bring up the mortar. It spins through a full rotation and fires off four rapid shots at a high angle… and no massive explosions follow. 

“Duds?” Biz wonders. “Is he getting rid of damaged ammo?”

“I don’t think so…” LD warns. From her rooftop sniper’s nest, she can see where each of the shots landed. “They’re definitely doing  _ something.” _

Ribbons of flickering blue energy cross the loading field in a wide X centered on the Orb, and its entire surface is bathed in the same glow. 

“Shield pylons,” Biz realizes. “The generator’s gone but he’s charging an internal battery. LD, Red, you two on the lancer, take them out!”

Ruby flies from her perch in a flurry of rose petals, headed for the nearest pylon. She emerges still in the air, and swaps the plasma gun she’d been using for Crescent Rose as she falls. She hooks the top of the pylon under her blade and fires a shot to force it through with the recoil, neatly slicing the device in half. She starts to move on to the next, but a magnetic slug from LD’s velocitus pierces the electronics and shatters them before Ruby can take a step. 

The other two go down shortly thereafter, one to Eudico – who finally seems to be getting comfortable with standing on the back of a white queen lancer – and the last shot down by Little Duck just like the one before. 

“Can I get back to beating Watts’s ass now?” Zuud asks over comms. 

“Absolutely,” Eudico tells her. “Five years I’ve wanted to tear one of these spiders apart. We can break through whatever shields he got from that, and not stop until every last member we lost is avenged.”

* * *

Adam had  _ better _ not show his face anytime soon. Robyn would be happy to give that fucker exactly what he deserves anytime, but if he turns up now? She’s not even going to waste time making him suffer first, he’s going  _ down. _

“Feeling any better, Fi?” She asks, staring out the window as she does. No sign of anything now. Military’s got the initial influx of Grimm under control, and as much as Robyn hates to leave anything to them, they’ve got appearances to keep up. Particularly after what the ‘Protector of Mantle’ supposedly did.

“A little?” Fiona says weakly.

Robyn closes the curtains and glances back. Fiona’s lying on the couch, heavily bandaged underneath her green and gold striped blanket. She looks a lot  _ less _ pale than she did earlier. That’s a good sign, even if Robyn doesn’t need her semblance to know she’s lying.

“Okay, I’m not feeling any  _ worse,” _ Fiona amends after a moment. “It just… hurts. I thought I had my aura up, I  _ should _ have had my aura up but I just… didn’t get it up fast enough? I guess? I don’t know.”

“At least you’ve got plenty of aura to help you heal,” Margulis says from the armchair. Her mask is back on, her keyboard is in her lap, and she’s typing away at a genuinely terrifying speed. “In the meantime,  _ I _ can figure out who did this.”

Robyn frowns, not that she wasn’t frowning already. She walks over between the armchair and the couch, then leans on the back of the couch. “You don’t think it was Penny?”

“No, I don’t think it was. I’m reviewing the footage from everyone’s bodycams now. The thing is, Penny’s eyes glow in the dark, allowing her night vision comparable to Fiona or any other faunus. Her eyes are visible on May’s bodycam as well as Joanna’s at multiple points, she was  _ clearly _ on the other side of the stage when you got stabbed.” Margulis reaches out a hand and pats Fiona’s arm comfortingly. “I can’t see much on yours, Fiona, but  _ something _ caught a little bit of light in the dark. Something metal, but something  _ curved. _ ”

“And all of Penny’s swords…”

“Are far straighter than any of us are, that’s for sure,” Fiona finishes. She snickers, then winces and stops. “So if it wasn’t her, who do you think it was? I just remember, whoever it was, they were fast.”

“I got something really interesting off of Joanna’s cam,” Margulis says. She fishes for her scroll, unlocks it without bothering to look down or take off her mask, and taps a few buttons. “She was standing closest to Penny. Look at this.”

She holds it out to Robyn, who moves it so both she and Fiona can watch. It’s nearly pitch black, but Margulis is right—Penny’s eyes are glowing a brilliant green. She glares at a point in front of her and orders, “Put down your weapon and surrender!”

Joanna eventually charges forward, but not before her bodycam catches something that  _ definitely _ qualifies as very interesting. As the two huntresses watch, Penny makes a surprised gasp, and looks around.

“She couldn’t see your assailant,” Margulis continues. “So she did the next best thing, and tackled you to the ground, out of harm’s way. No offense, Fiona, but you weren’t their target.”

“None taken,” Fiona says. “We all know who that was.”

“Maybe not their primary target,” Robyn points out, “but Fiona  _ is _ the only Happy Huntress with a visible faunus trait. If their plan banked on the lights being out, they needed to make sure whoever was between them and me wouldn’t see them coming.”

“Probably another faunus.”

“So Lis, what you’re saying is that it  _ wasn’t _ the military?”

“Not necessarily,” Margulis says. “I’m just saying it wasn’t  _ Penny. _ All our cameras in the area were shut down  _ except _ for your bodycams. In other words…”

“Only the cameras the military knew about.”

“Yep. A robot going haywire would be much easier to explain away than a deliberate hit on you by anyone else. There’s certainly precedent for  _ that _ . Heard enough about the Paladin Incident from all of you to know plenty.” The light in Margulis’s mask goes off, and she takes it off to look her team in the eyes. “The election is one thing.  _ That _ was definitely Jacques. But he wouldn’t have had the knowledge of where our cameras were or the technical know-how to disable them all,  _ and _ he would never hire a faunus for something like this. He just wouldn’t trust them to get the job done.”

“Weren’t you just talking to someone from the military?” Fiona asks. “Or did I hallucinate that?”

“Nope. You remember five o’clock shadow?” Nods all around. “Turns out he’s Ruby’s uncle. He was helping sabotage Schnee property, probably for Vox but he wouldn’t admit that much to someone he couldn’t even see. He mentioned that the military was planning something big, and that he needed to be back before anyone missed him. And, most importantly, he was  _ not _ supposed to be there.”

Margulis clears her throat and continues, “It was the military. They’ve framed Penny in order to cover their own tracks. Who else would be able to hide someone completely in plain sight from her? Someone who  _ has access to her programming.” _

For a few moments, there’s dead silence. Then someone knocks on the door. Margulis’s mask goes back on immediately.

“Our girls or Adam?” Robyn asks.

“It’s our girls,” Margulis reports, slipping it back off with no small amount of relief. “I unlocked the electronic locks, but someone’s got to handle the physical ones.”

“I’ll do it.”

The door opens to two very unhappy huntresses, who slip in without a second word and don’t speak until every lock is back in place.

“What’s the plan?” May asks.

“I’ll text our friends in Vox tomorrow morning, they’re probably asleep now,” Robyn says. “But we’re  _ done _ with working inside the law. The law just tried to kill us. I think it’s time we put all those dust shipments bound for Amity Colosseum to better use. The wall won’t fix itself.”

Mantle is going to be a very different place tomorrow, and not for the better. But it’ll  _ get _ better. Just not while Jacques Schnee and James Ironwood sit on the Council instead of people with actual morals.

* * *

“How much more of a beating can this thing  _ take?” _ Yang pants, picking herself up off the hard ground where the Profit-Taker Orb had kicked her. 

“How much more can  _ we _ take?” Eudico asks. “We were doing great until Biz got himself stepped on. We have a lot less firepower now with him sniping from cover instead of out here with the big guns.”

“I’d rather not risk any more injury than I’ve already got, thank you.” Biz’s sigh is picked up by his headset too. “I’m just glad it’s only a broken foot and not my whole leg.”

“If it’s serious, we might end up matching,” Eudico teases. “I’m sure Rudy would love to give you a gun down there.”

“Quiet, all of you,” Zuud instructs. “It takes  _ concentration _ to keep all these missiles busy with clones, you know. Or do you want me to let them lock onto other targets?”

“Sorry,” Yang says. “He  _ has _ stepped up the missiles a lot. Can’t hit us with the cannons, I guess.” She dusts herself off and gestures to Nora that they should attack together. 

Under covering fire from the three snipers – Ruby, LD, and the now injured Biz – the pair run in and trade off hits on a single leg of the enormous spider. It’s obvious the mech is weakening, running on a series of quick fixes deployed as part of its adaptability suite, but so long as any part of it remains functional, the team’s work is not yet done. 

Unfortunately, so is Nora – her reflexes, even if not her arms. Both she and Yang dodge a twitch of the spider’s leg, but the laser burst from the neighboring leg’s knee strikes Nora hard in the side. Her aura flickers pink as it cracks, weakened as it was by the constant lightning infusion and the semblance use depending on it, and she stumbles and drops to one knee. The enormous rathbone hammer falls to the earth beside her. 

A single hard-light shield forms, aligned carefully to strike Yang alone and push her back. And with her out of the way, Watts raises the heavy steel leg she had been assaulting and moves to bring it down on the now helpless Nora. 

A red blur swoops through the air to slip under the spider’s foot, and becomes mixed with pink as it departs. Ruby and Nora reappear together near the mine entrance elevator, and quickly run around behind it for cover. 

“Aura down,” Nora reports, breathless. She taps her comm link off and looks at Ruby. “No aura, no semblance. The crystals…”

Ruby understands. Before Nora can try to reach up with weak but still electrified hands, Ruby is already there, gently tugging at the yellow dust crystals impaled into Nora’s arms. When they come out, the color is mostly drained from the sides that were in her body as their power was expended – and replaced by an increasing amount of a new color: red. 

“Oh no, we shouldn’t have taken those out, now you’re bleeding. A lot.” Ruby glances around helplessly with crystals in her hands before moving one back to Nora’s arm. 

“Don’t put them back in! You’ll just stab me again. Apply pressure. Your cape!”

Ruby drops the depleted dust and shrugs off her hood. In a single motion she sweeps Crescent Rose off her back, unfolds it, and slices the fabric in half to tie each tightly around her friend’s biceps. 

“That’s not a permanent fix but it should hold for now. We’ll get you treatment as soon as we can. You going to be okay here?”

Nora nods. “Okay enough. Get back out there.”

Ruby tunes back into the rest of the group’s chatter just in time to hear “…thought you took out all four lasers!”

“I thought I did too,” Little Duck’s voice comes through to answer. “He must have fixed one somehow. I’ve never  _ seen _ a machine with this level of field repair capability before.”

“Nora’s fine,” Ruby tells the group. “Well, not  _ fine _ , but… stable.” She reaches for the fluctus plasma gun only to realize she left it laying next to Nora, and pulls out Crescent Rose in sniper form instead. She shoots at the lasers mounted on the Orb’s legs, but without one actively firing she can’t tell which might still be functional. 

Not far away, Eudico holds up her grattler, emptied of ammo, as a shield. Weiss kneels behind her, sword stuck firmly into the ground as a glyph shimmers around her, trying her hardest to produce a summon. 

It’s not the defeated foe itself which gives her pause, nor her aura capacity to fuel the semblance – all that is fine. She’s more than strong enough to conjure up a single small lancer. The problem is the location she wants to call this Grimm into being: inside Profit-Taker’s pilot compartment. It’s far away, not directly in Weiss’s sight, and worst of all, it’s moving. 

It’s moving  _ toward her. _ Profit-Taker’s head is open wide to reveal its array of rocket launchers, and it bends its front legs to angle them all downward at the two motionless figures. Four copies of Zuud flit around in front of the mech again, ready to intercept the coming missiles. 

Watts fires eight. The illusory duplicates are all obliterated – but the cloud of smoke left behind confuses the targeting of the rest, leading two to fly upward where they can be sniped out of the air by Biz and Little Duck. 

The last two missiles stay on course, and Eudico’s eyes widen in terror. A laser would be blocked by her makeshift shield, but not missiles. She turns, ready to grab Weiss and try to throw her away from the impact – and hears explosions behind her followed by the thump of a shockwave into her back, without her aura taking a hit at all. 

The sparkling remains of a summoned knight fade out into the evening sky as Eudico and Weiss both retreat, finally admitting that the original plan to attack Watts directly is not as viable as they had thought. 

A voice comes through the team’s earpieces. A quiet voice, but recognizable as Nora nonetheless. “Zuud… Watts had you in an aura transference machine, right? I know what those are like. There’s one at Beacon.”

“If you ever go back there I hope you smash it to bits,” is the reply. Then, “Why would a  _ school _ need something like  _ that?” _

“Because–” Nora pauses. “Some people did see the Fall of Beacon coming. Too late, but they did, and they tried to prepare. There was one very powerful person who the headmaster wanted to guard the school, but she was badly injured, on life support. And when things became desperate, my teammate, Pyrrha… she was asked to take that power. If it had worked, some parts of the Fall of Beacon might have been avoided.”

Zuud snorts derisively. “But it didn’t work, did it? Neither did mine. Look at me! Look at this aura. It’s got seven colors, sure, but they’re not solid. Just yellow and a pile of tatters!”

She takes a break from her shouting to throw a few punches toward Profit-Taker. “I hear echoes of my sisters’ voices. I get their memories confused with my own. But they’re not really in here with me! I can’t step back and give them control. It’s just me and this constant background  _ chatter!” _

“I’m sorry,” Nora says. “We never got to see the end product at Beacon. Maybe Pyrrha should never have agreed. But as it is… both she and the powerful woman she was supposed to succeed were killed. By someone who works for the same person Watts does.”

“And we can contact that person,” Blake interjects. “If we could capture Watts alive…”

“I’ve got no interest in keeping him alive,” Zuud says, and slams her hands onto one of the mech’s knees. A shockwave rips through it, tearing out the hasty repairs Watts had made and leaving that leg limp on its lower half. “Unless you plan to fight me too to save him?”

“Just a suggestion. You do what you need to.”

Zuud flies up on top of Profit-Taker once again. “You, yellow hair, you think you could take out the mortar?” Before even getting a response, she points down at Yang and swaps their positions. 

Yang activates her semblance. She’s taken enough hits by now that it’s just about as strong as it will go without failing in seconds from depleted aura reserves. She sticks her right knux gauntlet under her opposite arm and uses her metal fingers to pry up the casing over the heavy cannon, then kneels down and batters the gun’s barrel from above with a flurry of quick punches. 

Watts tries to shut the mortar’s armored cover, but Yang only smashes the electronics in the hinge to fix it in place. She returns to the gun itself, and doesn’t stop until the barrel is flattened and dented beyond any hope of firing a shell. 

“Shadow, you want to be useful?” Zuud calls over comms as she breaks another leg with a powerful shockwave and then flies down to rest on the grass again in front of the Orb. “Hand me guns and keep ‘em loaded. Quick as you can. Rest of you can take out rockets.”

A chorus of affirmatives answer Zuud’s plan as Blake runs to stand at her side. Zuud unholsters six pistols from around her body, each of them different and clearly handmade, and tosses four at Blake’s feet alongside two boxes of ammo that a duplicate retrieves from Biz’s crates. Her aura flares pale orange for a moment and then she starts firing with both hands. 

Zuud isn’t even looking where she’s shooting. Her eyes are closed, mind focused on the idea of joints and exposed sections, channeling that through her Peacemaker semblance to guide her hands precisely to the targets. When her guns are emptied, she drops them and reaches for a new pair readied by Blake, with hardly a second’s interruption in the barrage. 

Assigning the rest of Vox solely to rocket duty was a good move, as Watts seems determined to launch his entire remaining supply in short order. They come out in pairs, relentlessly targeting Zuud alone for the crimes of having damaged his mech and his ego, but with Ruby, LD, and Biz all sniping, few even get close to their target. Those that slip through find white lancers appearing in their paths, and they too explode harmlessly in the air. 

Bullets fly into every chink in the spider’s armor, every crack the team’s heavy weaponry has made, forcing the weakpoints open just a tiny bit wider with each hit. Broken electronics crackle and spark, and the giant spider’s central body settles to the ground. With the state its legs are in, neither its enemies nor its pilot hold any illusions about it getting back up again. 

Far off to the side, Little Duck watches down her scope, but refrains from firing. There’s a pattern in the pairs of missiles flying out of the spider’s head, and if she looks back at the source to confirm… That’s it. One from the left side of the rack and one from the right, working their way toward the middle in symmetrical, snaking paths. 

Which means the central rockets are staying put for a little while. And with the spider immobile and its hatch open wide, she can line up a shot. 

Little Duck pulls the trigger. Her bullet crosses the distance in a fraction of a second and pierces the front of one of the Orb’s unfired missiles. And then her scope lights up with the flashes of a whole series of explosions, her ears are battered by the loud roar of a chain reaction, and when the smoke begins to clear she looks down with gun lowered to see the aftermath of her final shot. 

The whole top of the Orb is a smoking crater, its once impervious carapace first weakened and torn, now blown apart from within. The pilot cabin’s reinforced back wall is dented inward and Watts can be seen inside, clutching at a bloody and perhaps broken nose after being thrown forward into the glass. 

But as LD shifts her view, it becomes clear that amidst all the other explosions, one in particular was not to their advantage. A single rocket had slipped through the defense and struck Zuud head on, throwing both her and Blake twenty feet back and leaving a scar in the ground where they had stood. 

Both are alive, thankfully, but without a further shred of aura protection. Yang runs to Blake’s side and supports her across her lap, and Ruby is not far behind. Zuud, however, despite taking a direct hit for many times the aura damage that Blake suffered, merely stands again and brushes herself off, then charges forward with an emptied gun in one hand. 

Watts sees her coming and throws a few last switches on his control boards, then reaches into his jacket for the ornate pistol he keeps there. Not all of the mech’s systems are damaged or destroyed – the front section runs on a separate power cell, and Watts retains the ability to release the latches that hold his cabin in place. 

The entire pilot area slides out a few feet and tilts downward, but if getting out was his goal, it’s too late. Zuud leaps up onto the mech’s front, hooking the stock of her pistol into a crack just above the glass to hold on, then draws out a piece of scrap metal from a pocket and begins beating on the latch. 

“Uh, guys…” Biz’s nervous voice crackles through everyone’s headsets. “Scanner’s picking up some readings here, and I think we might want to leave. Like, right now.”

“Not until this bastard is dead!” comes the immediate reply from Zuud. “We’ll strangle him with our bare hands if we have to!”

“The core reactor is overheating to dangerous levels. I would strongly suggest everyone  _ run!” _

Biz attempts to take his own advice, but he can barely manage more than a hobble on his shattered foot. In moments Weiss has called up a new queen lancer and leapt aboard, and she extends a hand to pull him up as well. 

“I’ll carry Nora,” Ruby volunteers, and starts off toward where she left her friend not long ago. Halfway there she leans down to scoop up Nora’s hammer from where she’d dropped it and calls out, “And nobody forget your weapons!”

Yang pulls Blake to her feet, but before her girlfriend can start running, she throws her arms around her waist and heaves upward to toss Blake over her shoulder. Yang takes off away from the Orb, and a red-pink swirl follows not far behind. Before they even reach the border of the yard, Weiss’s lancer zips past them carrying Biz and Eudico both alongside its summoner. 

That only leaves the sniper and the camerawoman. The rooftops  _ might _ be far enough away already to be safe… but better to go even farther. Ticker slides her scroll shut and vanishes in a puff of pink stardust, reappearing next to Little Duck just long enough to grab her by the collar and vanish again. 

But Zuud still remains. Every second since she made contact with Profit-Taker’s glass she’s been checking her aura, and  _ finally _ enough has recovered for a single good catchmoon punch into the escape hatch. 

With the last flimsy bit of metal that stood between her and Watts now gone, Zuud throws open the hatch and leans in, ready to grab the disgraced scientist and wring his neck until the chatter in her head says it’s enough. 

She’s greeted with a bullet to the shoulder. Her body jerks back involuntarily, and the pistol comes loose from its crack. Zuud falls to the ground beneath the pilot compartment and puts a hand to her shoulder. It comes away red. Not to be deterred, she leaps up again toward the access hatch at the top of the pod, but her bloody fingers gain no traction. 

Behind the pod, the rest of the spider’s body is visibly orange with heat. And from this vantage point below, she can clearly see a rocket nozzle at the base of Watts’s pod heating up as well. It flares with fire just a few short feet in front of her, and the clamps between Profit-Taker’s head and body finally release. With its escape hatch still standing open, the lifepod hurtles up into the sky. 

Zuud tracks it with her eyes, face holding easily enough fury for seven, but when she thrusts out a fist after it, no ring of heat flies forth. A creaking, tearing sound draws her attention back to the spider just in time to see a crack form all down its body from the shattered top to the lower laser, pouring out the brightest light she’s ever seen. 

Her non-injured arm snaps up in an instant. Her middle finger is raised toward the Orb. Deep blue aura sparks over her body… then flickers and dies, without the capacity to send her into her damage-redirecting state. The rupture widens. The light increases. 

And Profit-Taker  _ explodes. _

* * *

Everything hurts. Well, alright, maybe not  _ everything _ everything, but there’s a few major spots that hurt more than enough to compensate for the rest of his body not hurting quite as much. Jaune’s head feels like it’s about to explode from the sheer pressure within, his  _ arm _ feels simultaneously ripped to shreds and on fire, and… that’s about it, actually.

Maybe not everything hurts, just those two things, but those are two  _ very painful things. _ He opens his eyes in a squint, only to wrench them shut again because  _ who decided to put the fucking sun on the ceiling? _

Realistically, the sun can’t be on the ceiling, not unless he’s outside and from the brief glimpse he got before his headache got even  _ more _ head-poundingly… head-pounding, it didn’t look like he was outside.

So maybe he’s just a  _ little _ out of it. From what he can remember, that’s perfectly justified! He passed out in the middle of the road!

Oh  _ gods _ he passed out in the middle of the road. Right in front of Ren.

As if on cue, a voice that sounds suspiciously like the teammate in question says, “He’s waking up.”

“Good,” Marrow mutters. “I think Qrow would kill me if he didn’t.”

“You’re worrying about the wrong people.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Jaune, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Jaune manages. “I feel  _ fiiiiiiine. _ Minus everything being on fire. That’s probably not fine, is it?”

“Everything is on… fire?”

“Nothing is on fire, Jaune, I promise,” Marrow says. “Can you open your eyes?”

“Can’t,” Jaune says very seriously.

“Why not?”

“Sun keeps burning my eyeballs. Sun’s on the ceiling.” He pauses for a moment and adds, “Not the person, Sun, the  _ actual _ sun. Sun would  _ never. _ ”

“Okay. He’s officially lost it.”

Ren audibly sighs. “You  _ heard _ the doctor. They said side effects might include… this.”

“What’s this?” Jaune asks.

“Jaune, the sun is not on the ceiling. There is not even a  _ light _ on the ceiling. It will not burn you.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Jaune opens his eyes. He wrenches them right back shut again.

“Liar. Liar, liar, pants on fire. My pants are on fire too. Or they would be if I had pants. Do I have pants?”

“You have pants.”

“I have pants!”

Marrow lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You stay with the Loopy Knight over here, I’m going to go find  _ literally anyone else _ to deal with this. Maybe Clover will have found Qrow by now.  _ Hopefully _ they’re not making out in a closet. Hopefully I don’t find them if they are.”

Unfortunately for Marrow, it’s right then that the door opens. The General steps inside, followed by Clover and then Qrow.

“What the fuck happened?” Qrow asks.

“I dunno! One moment I was like, this,” Jaune holds his hands up in fists and punches the air, “and the next I was like this!” He throws his arms up in the air and lets them flop back to the hospital bed.

“Ow,” he adds unnecessarily. “My arm hurts.”

“General Ironwood, sir,” Marrow salutes. “He’s awake but he’s a little…”

Jaune opens his eyes, screams, and closes them again. “You said the sun wasn’t on the ceiling anymore! How could you do this to meeee…”

“Loopy.”

“I can see that,” Ironwood says. “Do we have any idea  _ who _ it was who attacked the rally?”

“No sir.”

“The doctor mentioned it was some kind of fast-acting poison. That could be  _ anyone _ but…” Ren trails off as something occurs to him. He meets Qrow’s gaze and says, “It was purple.”

“What do you mean, it was  _ purple?” _ Clover asks.

“His wound. By the time they had bandaged him up, it had turned from red to purple.”

Qrow’s eyes go wide as he puts two and two together. He turns to Ironwood and says, “Tyrian. He’s an agent of Salem. Faunus with a scorpion tail. Before everything at Haven, he was ordered to kidnap my niece. I stopped him and… got poisoned myself.”

“Oh, yeah, that was  _ fun,” _ Jaune says with nearly all the enthusiasm of someone who does actually believe the event in question was fun. “We got to fight a Nuckelavee by ourselves, it was great. Ren and Nora nearly died. That really, really wasn’t great. But they’re fine! Except Ren’s a lying liar.”

“I am  _ not,” _ Ren protests uselessly.

“I definitely  _ didn’t _ get like this,” Qrow cuts in. “Just got really feverish for a while. Ruby told me later that I thought I was talking to Tai, telling him… never mind.”

“It could be a reaction with the painkillers he’s on?” Clover offers.

“Wait, no. Ruby cut his stinger off. I suppose he could have got himself a prosthetic… maybe with different venom than what he used to make himself.” Qrow shrugs. “Or, maybe it’s the same and I was just unlucky like always. It might even  _ not _ be Tyrian, but if it is… we  _ need _ to find him before he can do any more damage.”

* * *

His leg is almost certainly broken. Far from ideal, but he’s alive, despite the best efforts of those  _ animals. _ Once his greatest experiment, clearly even  _ more _ of a failure than he’d initially thought. He’d never expected to see the surviving rabbit again. But it wouldn’t have survived  _ that. _

And that knowledge is what propels Dr. Arthur Watts to stand up, or try to. He fashions a makeshift splint out of the wreckage of his escape pod, and a crutch to lean on, and the second time he  _ does _ stand. He is still standing. And he will  _ continue _ to still be standing.

He fumbles for his scroll, only to find that it’s completely shattered. His triumph all too quickly turns to irritation. 

He’s landed way out in the tundra and it’s a  _ long _ walk back to Mantle. Longer in his current state, and he has no way to shorten it. No scroll to call Tyrian. No seer to call Salem. Nothing out here but snow and sabyrs. 

But he’ll be damned if he’s going to let snow and sabyrs stop him. The finest mind in Atlas has cheated death before, and he can do it again. 

No one ever said greatness was easy, did they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, fighting Profit-Taker is actually _harder_ in Warframe. Mostly because of the endless swarms of ~~SDC~~ Corpus reinforcements. And because the shield generator is in space. 
> 
> Also, apart from Rudy's own, the six other Zuud semblances are all warframe abilities: Switch Teleport (Loki), Defy (Wukong), Peacemaker (Mesa), Razorwing (Titania, modified), Hall of Mirrors (Mirage, modified), and Resonating Quake (Banshee, augmented). 
> 
> **F.**


	19. Part 2 Episode 5: And All For One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vox holds a memorial for their lost members. Unfortunately, Nora isn't recovering as well as she should be from quite literally pulling a Hazel. The Happy Huntresses take on Adam once and for all, but Sienna is once again occupied elsewhere...

In the half-light of early morning, on the outskirts of Mantle, a small crowd begins to gather. First to arrive is an old man with a wolf’s tail, carrying with him a bundle of kindling and a somber expression, and walking only with the assistance of a crutch. This part of the city has been abandoned for some time, nearly five years now, and so there are no residents to question what the old man is doing there, or why he spreads his bundle of sticks in the center and sets them ablaze before standing back and waiting for others.

He doesn’t have to wait long. Next, from opposite sides of the abandoned square, come two women. One has short brown hair, the other has longer, darker hair stuffed under a beanie, and both carry their own bundles of sticks. They wordlessly add their own fuel to the fire, then go to stand next to the old man.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Eudico says softly. “I can’t believe… there must have been something we could have—”

“The only thing we can do now is make sure Rudy didn’t die for nothing.” Biz stares into the growing flame. “Without her, a lot more people would have died last night.”

“I know. I just… she went out the way she would have wanted to, I think. With a bang.”

“Blowing shit up? Blowing that fucker Watts up?” Ticker nods. “Definitely.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.”

Biz sighs. “No, it doesn’t. It never has. I doubt it ever will.”

In the brief silence that follows, a shadow separates from the building casting it and travels to the fire. Little Duck materializes from her shadow up, on Biz’s other side.

“Couldn’t find anything to  _ burn, _ exactly,” LD says with a shrug. “Thought I grabbed fire dust, realized once I was halfway down the road that fire dust is usually warm to the touch and this sure isn’t, and I wasn’t about to go back and steal the right kind.” She holds up a single purple crystal.

Eudico is suddenly very glad she’s not standing right next to Little Duck.

“You do know that’s going to explode,” Biz says slowly.

“Yep. Don’t worry, I won’t throw it in until everyone’s here.”

“And ideally at a safe distance.”

“Shouldn’t have to stand back too far, it’s just one measly little crystal. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, and if you think she wouldn’t have wanted at least one explosion here no matter what happened—”

“No, you’re right.”

LD stares at Biz. She’s not the only one, but she’s the one who says, “No way I heard that right. Did you just agree with me?”

“No sense in disagreeing just for the sake of disagreeing. You’re right that it’s what she would have wanted. Just try to make sure everyone else is standing away from the fire when you do it.”

“That’s the plan!”

Ticker leans in to Eudico and whispers, “Is it just me, or are those two actually getting along?”

“I’m as shocked as you are,” Eudico whispers back. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

From the north, someone very tall and very fast speeds in. Except it’s very obvious, once the top half of the tall individual hops off, that it’s two kids: Roky and Boon. Roky waves and comes over as Boon speeds around the plaza, slowing down as fast as his semblance will let him.

“Howzit going?” Roky asks. “Sorry we’re late, we… actually, guess we’re not late, that’s cool. Did we actually beat Legs here?”

“We are not calling Thursby that,” Eudico says firmly.

“Sounds like a  _ yeah, Roky, you beat him here _ to me.”

“With Boon’s semblance?” Biz raises an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you weren’t the  _ first _ here.”

Roky shrugs. “He only got the text like ten minutes ago. Gonna be a bit.” She waves in his general direction.

A slightly less speedy Boon, still running faster than anyone could without help from a semblance, waves back as he passes the group for the fourth or fifth time. He comes dangerously close to colliding with another kid, this one sporting prosthetic arms  _ and _ legs. Thursby leaps back with a yelp, then runs in as soon as Boon is safely out of the way.

“Hi, everyone! Really meant to be up before the sun,” Thursby says slightly sheepishly.

“If you give a rhyming eulogy,” Roky says, “I’m going to throw up. On you.”

Thursby looks like he wants to say something, but eventually shrugs and nods wordlessly. No rhyming eulogies today, it seems.

“That everyone?” LD asks after a few moments. “Weren’t the other kids gonna be here? You know, Red, Sparky—how’s she doing by the way?”

Eudico grimaces, which is enough of an answer in itself. “They’ll be here. Might take them a bit, but they’ll be here.”

“I’ll hold off on throwing this in. Just a  _ bit _ longer.” Little Duck can’t seem to take her eyes off the flames. “Do you think if she hadn’t been hit by that last rocket, if I hadn’t switched my attention to…”

“Things could have gone a lot better, particularly at the end. But they could have gone a lot worse. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re lucky we  _ only _ lost Rudy, and not anyone else.”

“Well, when you put it like  _ that, _ I feel like I shouldn’t feel this bad. But you can guess how well that’s going.”

“It’s never easy losing people,” Biz says, like everyone here doesn’t already know. “I’m sure you all know it never  _ gets _ easier. But Rudy wouldn’t want us to stop now. We’ve already come further than we did the first time.”

“We defeated an Orb that,  _ I’m _ pretty sure, was  _ worse _ than Exploiter. How bitchass Jacq-ass managed to even  _ make _ that, I don’t know, but he won’t be trying  _ that _ again.”

“No, he won’t. Not after what we did to it, and its pilot.” Eudico sighs. “The only thing we can do is keep going. We  _ all _ know how well giving up goes.”

“Howzit, everyone,” Boon says, having slowed down to a normal walking speed and then stopping between Roky and Thursby. “Those the others that were coming?”

Eudico looks. That’s  _ definitely _ Team RWBY, Red still missing her cape, and Sparky. Sparky, who is clearly not okay but is clearly trying her hardest to be, despite the fact that Eudico knows perfectly well she can barely use her arms.

“Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having us,” Red says. She looks into the flames and adds, slightly sheepishly, “Even if I’ve got no idea how this works.”

“Oh, same here. Well, I’ve got  _ some _ idea, but not much to fear.” Thursby shrugs, and ignores Roky glaring daggers at him. “Never been to one of these before. Hoping to  _ not _ be to too many more.”

“We certainly have more than a few new faces here today,” Biz says. “Eudi, would you like to do the honors?”

Eudico nods solemnly. “Here’s how this works, for anyone who doesn’t already know.” Her gaze finds Ticker’s. “We go around the circle. Everyone says something about her, as long or as short as you want, and once everyone’s gone… well, we usually throw in a fire crystal if we can get one.”

“But I accidentally grabbed gravity dust instead, so we’re all going to need to take a few big steps back once we’re done.” Little Duck grins. “It’ll be fine.”

“A gravity dust crystal is fitting, in a sense,” Biz points out. “It was a gravity dust explosion that caused Shaft 12’s collapse, and the attack of the Exploiter Orb.”

“And it’ll be a gravity dust explosion that commemorates our defeat of the Profit-Taker Orb, and who we lost bringing it down once and for all.” Eudico blinks hard. She’s trying without much success not to cry. “I’ll go ahead and start. Rudy was… one of my closest friends, for a long time. I even dated one of her sisters for a while, and I was always on good terms with her family as a whole, and then… well, Shaft 12 happened. The Zuuds disappeared, and… I guess we know what happened to them now. When only Rudy returned, I thought she hated me. Then I realized she hated everyone, which didn’t make things much better. We… didn’t really talk much until recently, when she came back onboard to put an end to Watts. She may be gone, but she died doing exactly what she wanted to: bringing him down.”

Eudico wipes her eyes, then motions for Biz to go next.

“Alright,” he says. “Rudy was one of the first people I met in Mantle, and one of several who convinced me that Vox was a cause worth fighting for. She wasn’t the one who got me into Vox, in the end—that was her sister Mab—but she introduced me to someone else. Someone who became a legend inside and outside Vox, who kept up the fight even when I couldn’t and others wouldn’t. Little Duck?”

“Oh. Right. You’re talking to me.” LD clears her throat awkwardly. “Yeah, after I… let’s say  _ was strongly encouraged to leave _ Atlas Academy, I could have done all sorts of things I would have regretted. Was seriously considering shaving, passing myself off as human, and becoming an enforcer in the mines. Rudy talked me out of it. More specifically, she explained exactly  _ why _ that was a fucking stupid idea in the first place with more swearing than I’d ever heard from anyone else in my life. I’ll always be grateful to her for that.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t be  _ walking _ without her,” Thursby says. “Or doing much of anything except suffer. Thanks to Rudy, I can actually keep on living my life, and I might not be anywhere near the mechanic she was but I can certainly try to be.” He laughs nervously and adds, “It’s—okay, I won’t rhyme this once, Roky. You happy?”

“I hate you,” Roky says.

Boon elbows her. “Not  _ your _ turn yet. Listen, I never had any issues on Thursby’s level obviously, but Rudy was always… I know, this is gonna be shocking… not that rude. I mean,  _ sure, _ she cussed a lot and acted mean, but deep down she really didn’t live up to her nickname.”

“She always did have a soft spot for kids,” Eudico says fondly.

“Okay. My turn. Um.” Roky coughs into a fist. “Yeah. She taught me and Boon how to fight when the White Fang told us, no, come back when you’re older, and Vox was already long-gone. Was never able to thank her enough for that. She never seemed to want me to.”

“This is going to sound dumb, but…” Ruby shrugs. “Why not. I admired her for finding ways to put guns in things that you’d never expect to have guns in them, even more so than all sorts of huntsmen and huntresses have already. It was pretty cool.”

“I… didn’t know her very well,” Weiss admits. She looks down. “I still don’t know most of you very well, to be honest. But I remember, the first time I met her, how she took one look at Watts and  _ immediately _ was ready to fight him. I remember thinking at the time, wow, I wish I could motivate myself that much. And then we all found out what was really going on there and I’m starting to realize maybe having that much motivation in that situation is  _ not _ such a good thing, but… she knew what she had to do. And she did it.”

“She did,” Blake agrees. “She… in that fight, against the spider, she saw that rocket before I did. She could have jumped right out of the way and let me take the hit, but she didn’t. She shoved me out of the way and took it herself, and I think I would be dead now if she hadn’t. She saved my life. She saved  _ all _ our lives, in more ways than one.”

“Hi, gonna be honest, didn’t know her very well either,” Yang says. “Wasn’t here for long enough, but  _ damn _ do I wish I was. She could make a  _ gun _ out of three pieces of scrap metal she picked up off the sidewalk. She probably could have made anything she wanted to, and she made guns. That’s really cool.”

“Obviously she used… a  _ lot _ of different semblances during the fight,” Nora says, “but her original one was the one that was the blast, right?”

Little Duck nods. “Catchmoon. ‘Cause whoever got hit with it would feel like they tried to catch the moon.”

“Okay, yeah! That was her semblance, it was  _ so _ cool. She could just punch, and  _ wham!” _ Nora tries to demonstrate by punching the air, only to wince in pain and quickly pull her arm back. “Okay, not doing that right now,  _ ow. _ I’m fine I swear.”

Ticker looks visibly skeptical as Nora nods for her to go, but she goes nevertheless. “I’ve realized since I joined Vox that I seem to have already been friends with a lot of people involved. I wouldn’t have called Rudy and I friends, exactly? But we didn’t hate each other. I did some work in the gravity dust sector when I first started working in the mines, and one time, I saw her make a pickaxe out of nothing but a broken down mining cart when she forgot to grab one on the way in. That’s probably the most Rudy thing I can remember, anyway.”

“Sure sounds like her,” Eudico says. “Well, I guess… that means it’s time. We’ve still got an hour or so before any of us need to be at work, at least, but better to finish up  _ before _ anyone crashes this. Everyone, back away at  _ least _ ten paces, more if you feel like it.”

Once everyone has, Little Duck hurls the purple crystal in.

The bonfire explodes in a mass of burning wood and ash. It dies down shortly after, vastly helped along by a generous helping of ice dust from Weiss’s weapon. With it goes the last trace of Rudy Zuud and her sisters in this world.

* * *

“So, Nora… What have we learned?”

Nora sighs and gives Weiss a glare. “Being stabbed hurts,” she recites sullenly, and adjusts her position in the bed to sit up a little straighter. “And doing it to myself doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Very good.” Ruby beams at her. “See, you’re getting it already!” 

Blake wanders in at the sound of voices. “It’s true,” she says. “Being stabbed hurts. You should try not to let it happen again.” 

“I’ll try,” Nora agrees. “You got to admit, though, it  _ worked. _ And I love that big hammer. I just wish it didn’t, you know…”

“Leave you unable to hold anything heavier than a scroll afterward?” Weiss proposes. 

“Yeah. That. Arms are too weak to hold Magnhild and I  _ certainly _ can’t go to work like this.” Nora lets out a long breath of frustration. “I wonder how Hazel deals with it. When we fought him at Haven, he was using a  _ lot _ more dust at once than I did.”

Blake shrugs. “I don’t know. And it’s not like we can–” She stops suddenly, and her eyes slowly drift to Ruby. “Just… ask?”

Ruby’s eyes go wide. “You’re right…” Her scroll is out of her pocket in an instant. “Everyone quiet now. Let’s see if we can get some answers.”

She pushes the button to dial, and once again Salem picks up almost immediately. “Have you reconsidered my offer?” she leads. 

“No, this is different,” Ruby says. “May I speak to Hazel, please?”

There is a pause from the other end of the line. “Hazel will not be reachable by scroll for quite some time,” Salem says carefully. “Why do you wish to speak with him?”

“Because…” Ruby gulps. “We need his help. But maybe you can tell us what we need instead. At Haven, we fought him and he stuck dust crystals into his arms to make himself stronger. After the battle is over, how does he recover from doing that?”

“That’s an interesting question. I take it one of your friends tried to follow Hazel’s example?” Salem gets no immediate response. “You’re not going to like the answer. Hazel simply has a very quick healing process overall. Usually he’s back in action in about a week, and I don’t have to help him along at all.”

Ruby seizes upon those last words. “Help him along? So you  _ can _ do something to help Nora.”

“I am capable of healing through magic, yes. But I rarely need it, except when Hazel decides to… experiment. It turns out injecting gravity dust damages the body worse than other types. Are you asking me to heal your friend?”

“I… think maybe you should talk to her about that. I’m putting you on speaker.” Ruby takes the scroll away from her ear. “Nora, there’s the possibility of magical healing, if you want to take it.”

“From  _ her?” _ Nora’s eyes narrow. “What’s the catch? I know there’s got to be something.”

“Other than the obvious, that I cannot send magic through a scroll connection, and we would have to meet in person? I would want  _ something _ in return. I don’t quite know what, yet. This is all rather sudden.”

Nora gets a pained look on her face, and glances to her friends for guidance. 

“On one hand,” Ruby begins, “half the kingdom is rioting and we’ll need every available hand to fight Grimm.”

“But on the other hand,” Weiss continues for her, “do you really want medical treatment from someone who’s tried to have us killed?”

“And it’s only been a day,” Blake points out. “It looks pretty serious now, but maybe it  _ will _ heal on its own.”

Ruby shrugs. “But how long will it take? Ever since we got here I’ve had a  _ really _ bad feeling about the way this kingdom is going, and that election feels like the start of something big. I’d be willing to owe Salem a favor if it gets you back in action right away. Unless we could somehow meet up with Jaune again…”

Nora shakes her head grimly. “Won’t work. Jaune’s out of commission himself. Ren texted me earlier, said he got hit at the party.” She gives a pointed look toward Ruby’s scroll and puts one finger to her lips.  _ There’s more detail I can tell you later, _ the gesture says.  _ Not with her listening. _

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” Blake asks. “Anyone who meets her in person is in danger.”

“A week ago I never would have considered it,” Ruby admits. “But… I don’t know, I just… My gut feeling is that she really would just heal Nora and let us go.”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “A favor later is worth more than killing us all now. Unless it’s not.”

A voice comes through the scroll again. “You know I can hear you all, right?” But Salem’s words go unacknowledged. Everyone knows, but the discussion must continue anyway. 

“And we have no idea what she’d ask,” Blake says. “Probably something that would end up with one of us being hurt worse than Nora is now. Leaving it open-ended just gives her time to think.”

“You may be right.” Ruby gets a pensive look on her face and gazes down, away from anyone else’s eyes. “The question of how much it would cost is a valid one. But I don’t think the deal itself is an immediate trap. The meeting, I mean, if we have one. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I get the impression Salem likes to keep her word.”

“Your impression would be correct,” Salem tells the group. “I try to avoid making deals or promises that I can’t complete. Having a reputation for following through works wonders – and makes threats all the more convincing too, when I need them.”

Ruby nods, and returns her gaze to her injured friend. “It’s up to you, Nora. I’ll do it if you think we should.”

“I… I don’t know,” Nora says. “I feel so  _ useless _ like this. But I can’t work with  _ her!” _ She lets out a sigh. “What would our friends think, us working with the enemy? Or Qrow or the General? As much as I hate feeling like this… I’ll get better on my own. Eventually.”

“Alright.” Ruby speaks directly into the scroll. “You heard her. No deal.”

“Well, that’s a shame. Was there anything else?”

Ruby glances around at her friends, but nobody speaks up. “That was it.”

“Wait!” Nora calls out before Ruby can hang up. “Tell Hazel I like his style. It works great… at least until the fighting’s over.” She looks down at one punctured arm and then the other, then flops back onto the pillows behind her again. 

“I will,” Salem says. “And regardless of the outcome, I do appreciate that making a deal with me is now on the table as an option for your group. As Ruby said, a week ago it wasn’t. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all around.”

Salem hangs up, leaving Nora and her friends in the exact same place they started. Ruby pockets her second scroll and sits down on the bed. 

Elsewhere, Salem puts her scroll away as well, and absentmindedly lets sparks of pale gold dance between her fingers. No deal is still okay. Even without a favor to call in, she’s still getting what she really wants.

Interaction with Ozpin’s team while the man himself is not around.  _ Positive _ interaction. Ruby already almost seems to… well,  _ trust _ would be too strong a word, but… She seems open to the idea of not being mortal enemies. 

And that openness, that willingness to give even a single chance? That’s the first step toward Salem having a new and valuable lieutenant. 

* * *

_ “How’s it going out there?”  _ Margulis asks through her telepathic link. 

_ “Fi’s nabbed a transport already,” _ Robyn reports in.  _ “There’s another coming that we might be able to hit too, but it would take us a little farther from the house.” _

_ “Can she hold two at once?” _

_ “Maybe!” _ Fiona says.  _ “Haven’t found a limit _ yet _. _ ”

_ “Well if you don’t have one,” _ Joanna proposes,  _ “let’s just take you up to Atlas and you can solve all our problems in one go. Just put the whole city in time out for a while.” _

_ “I can’t hold people. Nothing living. That’s why we’ve got to kick the drivers out before we can steal a truck.”  _

_ “Wait, is it living things or is it auras?” _ Margulis cycles through her many cameras, but so far nothing is out of the ordinary.  _ “You should try it on a grimm sometime, see what happens.” _

_ “Well that’s a living body without aura. Try the Protector of Mantle too, for aura on a metal body. Got to test both ways.” _

_ “She’s definitely alive. Pretty sure anything with aura would be—hang on. Some of my cams just went out.” _

_ “Want us to come back?” _ Robyn asks.

“Nah, it’s probably nothing,” Margulis says out loud. “I need to run to the bathroom real quick. I’ll be back before you hit the next one.”

On that note, she takes off her mask and turns it off. Setting it down on the couch, she stands and reaches for her clubs. She feels a  _ lot _ better with those in hand.

Margulis does almost wish she’d run to the bathroom before the others left, simply because there isn’t any time now. All that’s left to do now is wait.

She doesn’t have to wait long. She’s scarcely nodded to an empty corner of the room when the door is kicked off its hinges.

The man who looks and acts like Ballas stumbles in, clearly not expecting the door to give easier this time.

“Did you expect us to spend money on a better door when you’ve clearly demonstrated you can break down anything we put there?” Margulis asks. “You know, it was unlocked.”

Adam glares at her. He did not, in fact, know it was unlocked. “Why should I believe that?”

“Because I  _ made _ that opening you just took. I want to end this. Just you and me, nobody else in the way. Nobody else to get hurt by  _ your _ endless delusions,  _ Ballas.” _

He scowls even more at the name. “You  _ know _ that’s not who I am.”

“Funny. I seem to have forgotten the name that other woman called you. Not that it matters, for all intents and purposes you two are the same person.” She holds her clubs at the ready. “Let’s end this. Once and for all.”

“As you wish.” Adam holds the sword that isn’t his at the ready. Seems like he’s been practicing with it. “But my name is—” 

Suddenly, he pitches forward, red aura flaring up around his shoulder. Behind him, May stands triumphantly, weapon in hand. She looks a little too pleased about having gotten in a solid hit before he could react.

Adam stands, shakily at first but then with a deadly precision. He picks up Paracesis from where it fell, and turns, slowly, to face May.

“Hi there!” May says. “You didn’t  _ actually _ think we’d leave our girl behind with you still out there, did you?”

Judging by the renewed intensity of Adam’s glare, he did. And here Margulis was thinking he wouldn’t fall for that.

“So you both have chosen death.”

“For you?” May grins at him. “Absolutely.”

As Adam watches, she changes her weapon’s form from a staff to a crossbow, winks, and disappears again.

“If you were smart, you’d try to leave now,” Margulis says. “You wouldn’t succeed, of course, but you’d be welcome to try. The others are on their way.”

“You’re bluffing,” Adam replies. “I heard them talking to you. I’ve made powerful friends, and your flimsy encryption is  _ nothing _ to them. I know your precious huntresses are going after another military transport.”

“You really believed that?”

Adam chooses not to respond verbally to that. Instead, he takes a step back.

Or, he would have if an invisible May hadn’t stuck a foot out behind him, causing him to lose his balance. Margulis spins in place, and with a fast one-two hit from her clubs, Adam’s sent flying back out the way he came.

Adam gets up faster this time, ready to charge back in, only for a crossbow bolt to fly past his face. He looks to see Robyn and Joanna blocking the road one way, looks down the other to see a military supply truck parked sideways across the road with Fiona standing atop it. 

Margulis and May materialize from thin air just outside what used to be the front door, and something clicks. Adam is surrounded, not by two students and a ghost this time, but by five fully trained huntresses.

If he dies here, he’s taking at least one of them with him. Ideally Margulis. But he didn’t survive everything he has already just to die today.

For a time, nobody moves. Nobody speaks.

“I suppose that traitorous bitch Sienna is hiding somewhere nearby too,” Adam all but spits. “She never stays dead when she’s supposed to.”

The huntresses exchange looks.

“I mean, not that I know of,” Robyn says with a shrug. “But she  _ was _ tracking you, so I’m surprised she isn’t here already. Wonder where she is?”

* * *

Willow Schnee stares with tired eyes at the uninvited guest before her. “What are you doing in here again?”

The guest shrugs, her brown striped arms draped in red so out of place in the blue and white halls. “A little opposition research on our newest Council member?” Sienna Khan suggests. It comes out closer to a question than a statement. 

“You know what he’s like. Everyone does.” Willow takes a sip from the bottle of wine she carries. 

“I do indeed. That’s not the only reason.” Sienna glances behind her down the long hallway. “We should move somewhere out of the way.”

“Follow me.” Without another word, Willow turns and leads a winding path through this wing of the manor, cutting through offices and libraries where none of the patrolling guards or servants watch. 

Finally she pushes open a door into a bedroom with a large window on the far wall, and sits down on the edge of the bed. “This was Winter’s room once. None of my family has set foot in here for years. We can talk.” Another sip of wine. “Why are you really here?”

Sienna speaks softly, looking down at the polished tile floor. “For all my life the name Schnee was like a curse, to me and everyone I knew. A symbol of everything we faunus fought against. I thought this family – your family – were all an evil to be destroyed.”

She looks up, but still doesn’t quite meet Willow’s eyes. “But that’s not true, is it? You’re not even a majority evil. Decent people, even  _ good _ as far as humans go, held hostage by Jacques. You especially, Willow.” She steps forward and takes a seat next to the Schnee. “I broke in here again to check on you. To make sure you’re okay, now that Jacques holds more power than ever.”

“I’m…” Willow sighs. “I’m not fine. Why would I be? But so far it’s no worse than usual.”

“It’s worse outside,” Sienna points out. “Mantle is rioting, and with good reason. Something needs to be done about Jacques. At the source.”

“You still want me to murder him.” Willow stares down at the bottle in her hand for a moment, then offers it to Sienna. 

Sienna declines. “I don’t understand why you didn’t kill him fifteen or twenty years ago, “ she says. “It’s not  _ that _ hard to get away with murder. Especially when you’re rich. The moment you finally accepted this marriage wasn’t going to work out – or sooner, the moment he first decided to be an abusive piece of trash to you and everyone else – that should have been the end for Jacques Gelé.”

“I don’t think you understand… I can’t do that.” Willow takes a drink from her bottle. “I know he’s done nothing but hurt me, and my children… the whole kingdom, now… I know we’d be better off without him. Everyone would. I know he’s terribly racist and only encourages others to be like that too. The White Fang, or Vox Faunus, any of you would be justified in taking him out.”

She drinks again, and when she lowers the bottle away from her face, her eyes are wet with the first glimmer of tears. “But you spend long enough around him, and he just gets in your head. You  _ need _ his approval. Suddenly the world revolves around Jacques, and if you want to avoid him, you have to avoid the world.” She stares at the mostly empty bottle of wine again, and finally sets it down on the floor beside the bed. 

“You can’t go against him. Not in the slightest. The only way… When Weiss was here, with her friend, I think I knew… if Jacques hurt them, I’d fight him. One on one, I might even win. We’re both untrained… but he doesn’t even know his semblance.” Willow wipes away the first tears from her cheeks. “But only in the moment, to save one of my children. Otherwise he’ll worm his way back in and then I’m paralyzed, back in the same cycle again.”

Sienna nods slowly, and tentatively reaches out one arm to wrap around Willow’s shoulders. The slightest touch is enough to bring Willow to lean into Sienna’s side, tears now streaming down her face with new intensity. 

“I’ve seen what that sort of abuse is like,” Sienna murmurs. “Not firsthand, thankfully. But remember I told you I knew one of Weiss’s teammates, back in the White Fang? She was in your position. It’s one of my biggest regrets, not stopping that when I had the chance.”

“What did she do?” Willow asks, sniffling. She shuffles a few inches nearer and closes her eyes. 

“She left. Physically put some distance between them. When her abuser came back she ran again, farther. Her team helped her break out of the old mindset, and when she was ready, she stopped running. Faced her abuser again and stabbed him in the gut.” Or his body anyway, even if Adam himself had already swapped out of it. But the man Blake stabbed was just as bad. 

“I don’t know if I can stab Jacques.” Willow inches closer again, until the sides of their legs are touching. “I don’t have that distance. Or a team. Anything, really. I’m stuck here and I  _ know _ I need to be rid of him, but I just… can’t.”

“And you won’t run without Whitley,” Sienna recalls. “You really think he can be saved?”

“I have to believe so. He’s my son. I can’t leave him behind, not with Jacques. I’ve tried talking to him, tried to break the conditioning, but I don’t know how. Nothing I say seems to get through.”

Sienna purses her lips, and shrugs as well as she can with Willow still leaning on her. “Got to remove him from the bad influence before he’ll start to heal,” she says. “And I could probably find a thousand people willing to personally murder Jacques – myself included – but you’re the one who’s right here. You have motive and opportunity, and with that ring I gave you, that’s means. But I understand having a mental block against crossing him.”

Willow doesn’t respond, only wipes the water from her cheeks again and sighs. 

“Or I could kidnap Whitley. That would work too.” 

This gets a quiet chuckle before Willow says, “That might be a little far.”

“Yeah. Especially with me being famous for – among other things – opposing Jacques’s business practices. Might backfire.”

Sienna ponders in silence for a moment. Anyone could kill Jacques, and Sienna might even get away with it given her skills and her legally dead status. But that’s still risky. If there’s a way to avoid  _ needing _ to get away with it… So long as Ironwood holds two Council seats and Winter Schnee has his ear, the best person to do away with Jacques is someone from his own house. Someone who could claim self-defense and be acquitted. Somehow, it still needs to be Willow. 

An idea occurs to her. There might just be a way to lend Willow the courage she needs. That too is risky. She’s a human – worse, a Schnee… but not all Schnees are bad. Sienna knows that well enough by now. But might her idea be construed as a promise to be taken up later? If so, is that a promise Sienna would be willing to keep? 

Right now, Willow seems content to merely exist in silence beside her, taking comfort in not being alone just as much as in any conversation they could have instead. Sienna is okay with that – it gives her time to think. 

Why did she come to Atlas? To rebuild the White Fang from a chapter that never saw Adam’s influence. And upon arrival seeing her previous mission to be less complete than she had thought, to finish the job and kill Adam’s new body as well. But that shouldn’t take her very long, and as for the White Fang… Cressa Tal is a good leader, and with Vox Faunus returned as well, they hardly need Sienna’s guidance. 

She’s dead to Mistral. Dead to Atlas too, now. And resurrecting a lifestyle is a lot more difficult than just her life. 

“I may have just the thing…” she says softly, pulling Willow just a little closer as she does. “To give you strength to beat him. To give you a reason to keep fighting and surviving. A hope that your freedom will come soon.”

Willow lifts her head from Sienna’s shoulder and shifts her weight to turn toward her with a questioning look. 

“If you’ll accept it,” Sienna murmurs. She reaches up to brush the last tears from Willow’s face. Then, before she can second-guess herself any further, Sienna leans in for a kiss. 

Willow’s body stiffens at the sensation and for a moment she’s frozen there, in shock. But this is not like Jacques – not pushy or possessive, Sienna even seems hesitant herself – and most different of all, this is a  _ woman. _ For years Willow had heard so often how people like her were unnatural, were abominations, threats to the order of the world, and now here’s someone just like her, who accepts her, who sees who she is –  _ what _ she is – and finds it good. 

For a brief moment, Willow allows herself to give in and return the kiss… and then pulls away. “I can’t,” she breathes, eyes wide and half-unfocused. 

“But you can,” Sienna whispers back. “Even openly, once Jacques is gone. You  _ can _ make a fresh start, and live how you’ve always needed to.”

That last remark seems to spark something in Willow. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong something. “I haven’t  _ needed _ to do… this. I’ve been… fine enough.”

Sienna only raises an eyebrow in response. 

“You’re right. I don’t believe myself either.”

“You  _ are _ the one who, if I’m not mistaken, has been trying to drink herself to death for… what, two decades now?”

A long look at the bottle tells Sienna everything she needs to know about the answer. Willow sighs, and closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says, right before she kisses Sienna again. It could have lasted for a moment or a million years, and it still would have felt too short. Jacques could come in at any second, and yet she can’t quite bring herself to pull away. He  _ could _ come in, but… Strangely, that fear of him seems a little less already. She  _ knows _ he hasn’t come here in ages, and he won’t now. 

So, for the first time in far too long, Willow Schnee does something just for herself.

“Don’t be sorry,” Sienna whispers when they pull apart. Their foreheads touch. “Why apologize when you’re not doing anything wrong?”

“I’m s–” Willow manages to stop herself before she can apologize again. “I… can’t promise I’ll be able to kill him. Not yet. But thank you, Sienna… for the courage to let myself consider it.”

Sienna smiles. “That’s a start.”

* * *

_ He could easily take on Blake and one other person, but three trained people is pushing it. Four isn’t a bet he’d like to make. _

Adam’s own thoughts come rushing back to him as he slowly turns and takes in the sight around him. He could take on Margulis and her new lover, even with a heavier sword than he’d like. But  _ five of them? _ Five on one means he’s out of his depth, and he’d rather not stick around long enough for Sienna to make it six. 

All that time spent watching, planning, waiting… Why didn’t he ever research the other Happy Huntresses? He’s picked up enough from being in Atlas to know that they were once students up above who rejected the military path – and that means their semblances should still be available on record, somewhere. 

Those would have been good to know before now. Especially since one of them can apparently turn invisible. 

But he has no idea about any of the newcomers blocking him in on both ends of the street. He wasn’t planning to ever  _ need _ to know. And there’s no time to think now, because he’s being charged from three sides. All he can do is send out a distress signal with his arm and hope to hold out long enough for Watts to get here. He might not  _ like _ Watts, but he’ll be a good distraction for Adam to get away.

At least the huntresses don’t know what  _ his _ semblance does.

“Don’t forget about his semblance!” The one on top of the truck yells to the others. 

Fuck. 

Well, she’s smaller, and more importantly she doesn’t have someone with her.  _ And _ she’s a faunus, a traitor consorting with humans.

The fact that Adam leaps straight for Fiona has very little to do with it being the strategically best option, and far more to do with Adam being his usual spiteful self. 

Fiona is ready for him atop her truck. She has the high ground, after all. She blocks his initial strike with her staff, then jumps out of the way of his next two downstrokes. Twirling her staff in midair, she fakes jabbing to one side then spins it to whack him in the side.

Ballas’s sword is too large, too unwieldy, and  _ what kind of overconfident bastard doesn’t have a ranged attack? _ That kind of overconfident, backstabbing bastard, apparently. And yet what Adam wouldn’t give to have him here now, if only to have everyone’s attention focused on Ballas while he escaped.

It should never have come to  _ him _ having to escape.

“Are you happy?” Adam asks. “Being a traitor?”

“What,” Fiona jabs, “the hell,” she jabs again, “do you mean? I’ve never been involved with the White Fang. Until recently, anyway.”

“The White Fang?  _ Please. _ I don’t  _ care _ about  _ them _ . How does it feel to betray your own people? Working with  _ humans?” _

“Dunno. Why don’t you tell me?”

Before Adam can attack again, a crossbow bolt fired by one of the huntresses behind him digs into his shoulder. He snarls and turns, only to be roughly dragged off the truck by the bolt. It’s connected to Joanna’s crossbow by a thin line, thin but  _ more _ than strong enough to yank Adam back down to the ground before it snaps.

“And the military thinks our weapons are all the same,” Joanna says, perhaps a tad smugly. She backs up, allowing Margulis and Robyn to run in with thick clubs and a bladed crossbow respectively. “I’ll watch the other alleyway.”

From Fiona’s other side, May starts to climb up to a nearby rooftop, turning invisible as she nears the top.

And in the street in front of their home, Robyn and Margulis have Adam all but cornered.

“You don’t know what my semblance does,” Adam says in a last, desperate attempt to bluff. He sends out another message to Watts, although at this point the most useful thing the scientist’s tricks could do for him is throwing the arm at them so he can run. “Sienna hates humans nearly as much as I do. She wouldn’t have told  _ you.” _

“Yeah, well, two of us aren’t human,” Margulis says. She frowns. “Two and a half, maybe? Do I count?”

Robyn shrugs. “Worry about  _ that _ once he’s dead.” 

For all their talk about knowing his semblance, neither Robyn nor Margulis are anywhere near as careful as they should be. Both are more on the defensive, with Margulis still using that  _ infuriating _ spinning to practically dance out of the way and Robyn blocking  _ his _ strikes before firing off her own. 

They  _ are _ careful to avoid fueling his semblance—but not careful enough. For every two strikes that connect with the rest of him, there’s another that he blocks with the sword. It’s not  _ his _ sword, but it does the job for this. It does the job for channeling power into his semblance, and it’ll do the job for channeling it back out in one last, devastating strike.

All Adam has to do is wait for the right opportunity. Easier said than done with his complete and utter lack of patience, but he waits, and blocks, and keeps waiting and blocking.

At last, they think they’ve cornered him.

“His aura’s got to be getting low,” Robyn remarks to Margulis.

“Maybe it is. Maybe I  _ will _ die here.” Adam’s aura flickers. With no red hair or clothes to glow like he’s used to, his aura itself starts to instead. “But it won’t be without taking  _ you two _ with me.”

He slices at Margulis—

—and his aura  _ breaks _ . 

The red shatters into a million pieces, his final attack disintegrates in midair, and all three are left standing there in shock.

Robyn recovers the quickest. She fires a bolt at his face, a bolt that he raises the sword to block, useless though it may be. And the bolt is sent flying  _ back. _

_ What the fuck? _ The sword does  _ that _ when incoming attacks aren’t being channeled into Adam’s semblance? 

Margulis is the least surprised by this. In one quick motion, she’s spun and batted the bolt out of the air before it come near Robyn. In the next, her other club splits in the middle, revealing twin prongs. She throws it.

Adam raises his sword again, still instinctively blocking even now that it serves no benefit to him, but instead of knocking the thrown club out of the air – his blade is turned just the wrong way, and the prongs slide neatly on either side. 

Before it even falls away, May materializes from thin air beside him and seizes the handle. She jams her thumb down on the button and the prongs slide inward again, trapping the blade of Paracesis inside. 

Margulis charges forward with her remaining club held in both hands. May ducks, only partly to avoid the punch Adam throws in her direction. The club swings over her head and strikes the sword with a heavy clang that sends painful vibrations through the arms of all three. 

Hilt held tight in a metal hand’s grip and middle immobilized inside a makeshift trap, the sword’s end has nowhere else to go but to separate entirely from the base. It breaks cleanly just above where Margulis’s club holds it, and the sharp fragment spins past Adam’s head to clatter on the street beyond. 

May hits the button again to free the blade, and what’s left of it also drops to the pavement. Apparently Adam had let go when he flinched away from the shrapnel. May offers the club back to its owner but Margulis ignores it, and grabs the broken sword in her free hand instead. 

Adam runs. The only real weapon he has left now is his arm, and useful as it may be against electronics, it’s not much good in a physical fight. 

Before he’s taken ten steps, a crossbow bolt flies in front of him, and suddenly his movement stops and he clutches at his chest, where a thin but strong wire presses into him. Joanna winks at him from one end of the line, while at the other Fiona loads the very same bolt into her own crossbow and fires it back to loop all the way around him. 

Adam sends out another electronic distress call through his metal arm. All it takes is a thought and a quick hand gesture, and by now any pride he once had in not needing a  _ human’s _ help is long since gone. But Watts hasn’t even responded to the first calls yet. Where is he? Has  _ he _ betrayed Adam too, just like Blake and Ilia and Sienna? Just like Ballas?

The end of a staff pokes out from an invisible bubble just long enough to strike Adam on the back of the head before disappearing again. He pitches forward and tries to run, but the cord around his body stays tight and Joanna holds its ends without being pulled. Adam is forced to arc around in a wide circle – but this brings him near the military truck, and the narrow gap between its back end and the neighboring building. Through there and he’d be free, and the huntresses could only follow in single file. 

May appears from nowhere again and bodyslams him against the side of the truck. The others aren’t far behind. Adam goes for the small knife at his belt, hoping to at least cut himself free even if he can’t harm his enemies with it – but the moment it’s out of its holster, Fiona grabs the blade with an aura-protected hand, and the knife disappears into some hidden space. She lands an uppercut punch on Adam’s chin, takes a quick glance behind her, and steps away. 

Margulis has her lone club still expanded into its dual pronged form, and while Adam is still reeling from the hit she plunges the weapon forward. The ends strike metal but she keeps pushing forward, leaning her weight on the club. Adam realizes too late why he felt nothing but the vibration of the truck behind him: it was never aimed to stab him, and now he’s trapped with his neck between the prongs. 

The broken hilt of Paracesis in Margulis’s other hand, however,  _ is _ aimed to stab him. But not yet. 

“I’ve waited for this day for years,” Margulis says, pressing the jagged edge into the front of Adam’s shirt. “Any last words, Ballas?”

“I’m  _ not _ Ballas.”

Margulis shrugs. “You might as well be. You’ve certainly taken his place lately. But if this Blake you’re so obsessed with has already killed the man who abused and stalked  _ me _ for years, it’s only fair that I return the favor for her.”

“You’re really going to murder a man you hardly know in cold blood?”

“Not really cold blood when you broke into our house twice,” May points out. “And tried your hardest to kill her both times.”

Adam switches tactics. If he’s going to be treated like Ballas anyway, then maybe he  _ should _ act like him. “Look at me…” he says softly. “This is a face you loved, Margulis. Remember what we had together.”

Margulis’s eyes narrow and she pushes the broken sword a little deeper. 

“Remember our life in Lua. You used to love sitting by the lakes together. Or our hikes up to the Silver Grove. You always felt like the trees there had something to tell you.”

“Stop it. You’re not him.” The sword quivers in Margulis’s grip, but calms as Robyn and May both put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Aren’t I? Am I not the man you spent six years with? Who asked you to marry him in that courtyard with the big tree, looking up at the shattered moon?”

Margulis’s hands are shaking worse now, and she glances down at where an engagement ring had once sat, for the few short months before everything had fallen apart. Adam takes a step toward her – neck still caught between the halves of her weapon – but finds himself forced back against the side of the truck by Joanna and Fiona’s staffs. 

“You still think you can defy me? You are no wolf, Margulis. Just a stray dog playing at having a pack, and now your master has come to collect you again. Go ahead, try to stab me. It won’t release you from your torment.”

_ “Please _ stab him,” Fiona echoes. 

Margulis stares at the sword in her hand, but it doesn’t move. She stares harder and her hand twitches briefly, but stays fixed as if held in place by an invisible force. 

Finally she sighs, and looks to Robyn at her side. “I can’t.”

Robyn nods, and looks Adam in the eyes. Already there’s a hint of a smile there, but Robyn only matches it with her own. 

“But  _ we _ can,” she says. She takes Margulis’s hand in her own and guides her forward, and together they thrust the broken Paracesis deep into Adam’s chest. 

Adam gasps and splutters, but no coherent words come out. 

“This was inevitable,” May says, “the moment you decided to befriend that monster.”

“He may have told you all about his own life,” Robyn continues in her place, “but you do  _ not _ know Margulis. She’s free of both of you now. We all are. The cycle is broken.”

Fiona stands on tiptoes to look him in the eye. “Now squirm like the maggot you are,” she spits. 

Adam drops to his knees as the weapons holding him are pulled away. “Now I know…” he breathes, eyes already beginning to roll back. “What she sees in you… Blake.” He pitches forward, arms too weak to break his fall, and drives the blade deeper until its jagged tip pokes an inch out from his back. 

Robyn startles at the sound of running footsteps behind the group and whirls around with her crossbow ready, only to lower it again. She steps aside and guides Margulis to do the same, so their lone visitor can see the body laying in the street. 

“I can’t believe I missed it  _ again,” _ Sienna pants. “I got thrown out of the first fight only for Blake and Yang to finish off Ballas before I got back. And now…” She stops again to take a few deep breaths and wind her whip back around her forearm. “Good job, all of you.”

“We had it under control,” May says. 

“Set up a trap and he walked right in,” Joanna adds. “Though another pair of hands is always welcome for something like this.”

“Yeah, I really thought you’d be here sooner, since you were tracking him and all.” Robyn shrugs. “Where were you?”

“I was–” Sienna freezes. Her eyes widen and she stares past the huntresses, prompting a few to glance behind them at some imagined threat, but there’s nothing there. Sienna stays motionless a moment longer. Are her cheeks a little redder than they were before? Is she…  _ blushing? _

“Recruiting a new ally?” Sienna tries. “For the Jacques problem, not the Adam one.” Her eyes flick between the five huntresses. “I… think I need to go now.” 

And she vanishes as quickly as she came. 

“So that just happened,” Joanna remarks dryly, staring after the direction Sienna disappeared in. “Any ideas on what to do with the body?”

“I’d say just leave him to rot, but can’t be anywhere around here. Bet the military’s already issuing warrants for our arrests even  _ before _ having actual murder charges.” May glares pointedly upward.

“I… might have an idea.” Margulis sounds as shaken as she looks, but there’s the same stubborn defiance in her eyes there was before any of this started, before the last person anyone wanted to see from her past returned—in a sense. “Fiona. Do you remember what we were talking about before this? With your semblance?”

“Vaguely. And I might know where you’re going with this.” Fiona frowns. “Anything living is a definite no-no, but I’ve never tried with anything only  _ recently _ living. Worth a shot.”

She raises her hand and concentrates. In a matter of moments, the only sign of Adam left is his blood spattered on the side of the truck. That’ll be much easier to clean up, though—not that they necessarily have to. After all, it’s not like they’ll be returning the truck  _ or _ its contents to the military.

“Guess that settles it,” Fiona remarks once she’s done. “Can’t say I was ever expecting to test  _ that _ one, but hey! The more you know.”

With Ballas long gone, and Adam now too, Margulis is finally free to be with the huntresses she loves. As free as anyone  _ can _ be when they’re still in the shadow of Atlas, but dealing with Ironwood is something they can handle.

It’s over for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> F in the chat for Zuud.
> 
> No F in the chat for Adam. Good riddance to him.
> 
> Fun fact: that spinny fighting style Margulis has with her clubs originated with the conculysts of Warframe. Take a look at [this video](https://youtu.be/qsEbWG1mw8k?t=30) for an example.


	20. Part 2 Episode 6: A Light In The Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro receives a mysterious letter from an obvious source, but the mere identity of the source raises more questions. Jacques faces the aftermath of Profit-Taker, and Vox faces the aftermath of Jacques' decision. Ironwood and others talk with a former SDC enforcer turned informant, and Salem experiments with the Relic of Knowledge.

Pietro knocks on the door to General Ironwood’s office. Or more precisely, his chair knocks on the door, because he can’t quite reach from his seated position. 

Ironwood calls for him to come in, and the door slides open of its own accord. 

“Ah, Pietro. What can I do for you?” Ironwood looks up from his desk and pushes a stack of papers aside. 

Pietro holds up a single sheet of paper as his chair carries him closer. “I got this in the mail today,” he says, and frowns. “Delivered right to my workshop. Look at it.”

Ironwood takes the paper and reads the single line handwritten on it. 

_ I’d like my cane back. _

“You think this is from Ozpin?” There’s no signature, nothing else on the page but those five words, but who else here uses a cane? 

Pietro nods. “I have to believe so. But if he can get a letter to me, why not speak in person? Why not come find you?”

“I don’t know. Qrow and I were both in his inner circle. The ones he told everything to, or so he said.” Ironwood taps a few buttons on the screen in his desk. “But if he never trusted any of us as much as he said… I fear he may have decided to revoke his trust from everyone, completely. If he  _ is _ still here…”

Pietro opens his mouth to speak, but Ironwood keeps going without even glancing up at him from his desk. 

“Ozpin clearly never intended to tell  _ anyone _ what the lamp showed his students. Does he intend to wait out the century, until anyone who knows his secrets is dead? How much damage could Salem do to the world before then?”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, General,” Pietro finally cuts in. “We should start at the beginning and think through the possibilities logically.” Pietro raises one finger, and his chair begins to pace back and forth. “First, is he in the robot body or not? If he’s not there, then we’ve gotten lucky that he reincarnated in Atlas and not elsewhere in the world. If he is, then he’s somehow evading detection from all of my tests, but it  _ would _ explain some strange occurrences in my lab. Either that or I’m simply haunted by a spirit who dislikes clutter.”

“You think he’s there but hiding from you? But why? What purpose would it serve to–” A knock comes at the office door and Ironwood stops, and presses another button on the table. “Come in!”

Oscar stands in the doorway. “You… wanted to see me?”

“Thank you for coming.” Ironwood beckons the boy in. “What can you tell me about this letter?”

Oscar takes the paper, and immediately looks back up to Ironwood. “This is from Ozpin,” he says, with absolute confidence. “These are the exact words he had me say to Qrow, when I found him in Mistral.”

“Then that’s confirmed,” Pietro announces. “He’s in Atlas, somewhere. Maybe even in my workshop right now.” 

“He’s still hiding?” Oscar asks. “I thought he’d have no choice but to come out once he was alone in his head. If I might ask… What could he potentially  _ do _ from your workshop? What’s in there?”

“Nothing that would interest him, just my projects. There’s even less in the Mantle one where I left him. Mostly prosthetics, and your friend Blake’s weapon. Although…”

Immediately Ironwood is suspicious again. “What is it?”

“That body has integrated scroll access, same as Penny. I was using that to test its functionality before the transfer, which means it’s logged into the network under my credentials.”

“And your security clearance is the second highest level…” Ironwood curls his metal hand into a fist. “I want him found. Or awoken, whatever it is. I’ve carried on this war for over a year in his absence. I want to know for  _ sure _ whether we can count on Ozpin’s help, or if we’re still on our own.”

Ironwood looks down, avoiding the others’ eyes. “I’m prepared to do whatever is necessary, either way.”

“If he’s in the network,” Oscar says, then hesitates when Pietro and Ironwood both look to him. “Could Penny find him? Get a response maybe, one robot to another?”

Pietro nods. “Worth a try. I’ll ask her.”

Ironwood’s grim expression doesn’t change. “Do it. And Pietro?” The scientist glances up. “In case Ozpin does come back… start building another cane.”

* * *

Alone in his office, Jacques Schnee sits with a scroll on the desk in front of him, and the local news playing on his computer. The scroll rings once, twice, a third time, before finally going to voicemail.  _ Again. _

“If you are calling this number, you already know who I am,” Arthur’s voicemail says haughtily. “If you don’t? Good riddance. If you’re a telemarketer? May the creatures of Grimm eviscerate you and your children. Leave a message after the beep.”

Jacques does not leave a message after the beep. He humored Arthur the first time, but he is getting  _ sick _ of this. Profit-Taker has been destroyed—by the animals of Vox Faunus, no doubt—and there is no sign of its pilot.

Worse still, the media are drawing their own conclusions, and they aren’t good. He hits the unmute button on the news.

“—our sources in the area say that, while people believed to be members of Vox Faunus  _ were _ sighted, they do not believe the organization was behind the attack. As of right now, there are no known casualties. Faunus in the area cite the quick actions of members of Vox as being crucial to this, as well as point to the similarities between this robot and the ‘Exploiter Orb’ infamous for its deadly attack in the same area five years ago.”

The on-site reporter holds her microphone up to a young woman wearing altogether too many bright colors and too many rainbows, someone who could pass as human if it weren’t for the pink tail flicking behind her. Jacques’s lip curls into a sneer.

_ Neon Katt, third-year student at Atlas Academy, _ the screen reads below her.

“Hi, yeah, so I’ve never actually been on TV before? This is  _ super cool,” _ Neon gushes for a moment before turning much more serious. “Anyway, uh, the attack? Yeah, it was right after the election results came in. Like,  _ right _ after. I remember ‘cause my team and I were holding our own little countdown at Kobalt’s place, other side of town. Got a text from my mom, you better  _ believe _ I raced home! I’d barely made it out the door when I heard these big  _ booms. _ Like a cannon firing or something, only bigger.”

“Did you  _ see _ this new ‘orb’ robot?”

“Well, no,” Neon admits. “Not up close. You think I’d  _ willingly _ get up close to that thing? Please. I caught a glimpse of it from a distance though, while I was on my way home. It was  _ big. _ Really,  _ really _ big, and it was firing these missiles at these little things swarming it—I guess that must have been Vox, huh?”

“What do you, personally, think of Vox Faunus?”

“Me, personally?” Neon shrugs. “Not a fan of people attacking each other unprovoked. Usually that's meant I didn't much like Vox, but right now... I'm glad they were there. Vox Faunus saved a lot of lives.”

“Thank you, Ms. Katt. Back to you, Skye.”

“Thanks, Rose. Now—”

The sound cuts off as the screen freezes. For a second, Jacques thinks naively that it’s an issue with their network, except that can’t be right. And it isn’t, because now the frozen picture is fading into static.

He knows what  _ that _ means.

“No, no,  _ no,” _ Jacques hisses. He slams his hands down on the desk, knocking the scroll balancing precariously on the edge to the ground. He lets it fall, ignores the audible  _ crack _ of the screen in favor of what he  _ knows _ is coming. “Don’t you bastards  _ dare _ do this to me now.”

But of course Vox would do this now. Now is the perfect time to get their side of the story out. His own eyes stare out at him, but they’re not on his face. His own face, defiled by the presence of  _ eyestalks. _

Vox smiles, as if they see him gagging and are reveling in it. Then the scene changes. There is Profit-Taker firing at an unarmed person standing alone in the snow, her face blurred to be unidentifiable. Profit-Taker fighting back at its assailants, but to no avail. 

“Profit-Taker is no more,” Vox’s distorted voice says over the fight. “Vox Faunus survives. Jacques Schnee’s act of war on citizens of Mantle has been repelled, and his further attempts to seize power at the expense of lives  _ will _ be opposed. Vox Faunus stands with Mantle and  _ all _ its people, faunus and human alike.”

“Let there be no doubt as to our enemy’s identity.” The screen freezes at a head on view of the Orb and zooms in until a human figure can be seen through the windshield. “Hear it in his own words.”

“I’m here as a personal favor to my good friend Jacques,” a non-distorted male voice says. “So he doesn’t have to find someone… legally living… to pilot his creation.” It’s Arthur’s voice, though his face is difficult to see clearly over the glare in the glass. How dare he reveal himself – reveal both of them – like this? 

The sides of the picture vanish into static, and the central view of Arthur slides over to make room for another picture beside it. A picture of him and Jacques together, walking through what’s obviously one of the hallways of this very estate. How did they  _ get _ that? “Here is your proof,” Vox says over it. “Part of the Council now wants Mantle citizens dead, and we will  _ not _ tolerate such an abuse of power.”

“Citizens,” Jacques mutters. “As if the likes of you  _ deserve _ citizenship.”

“Will the rest simply sit by and watch it happen? We say: enough!” The two shots of Arthur vanish and are replaced by another clip from Vox fighting the Orb. As Jacques watches, Profit-Taker’s legs crumple beneath it under a hail of gunfire. Static fades in over the screen again, replaced by the same false image of Jacques. Vox is no longer smiling. 

“Let this be our call to unity. Vox Faunus, the White Fang, the Happy Huntresses, the workers of every mine and dust shop, the owners of every store Jacques Schnee has run out of business, every person who believes lives are worth more than profit: Rise up! If our elections are to be a sham, if the Council will accept this usurper without question, then let us remind them that the Councils rule only through the people’s consent. They shall have the power they have rightfully earned – and no more.”

“You insolent—”

But Vox is no longer concerned with Jacques. Their eyes on the eyestalks blink slowly, earning a noise of pure revulsion from him, and then they continue. 

“To General Ironwood specifically: you were once a guardian of equal rights and a protector of  _ all _ your people.  _ What happened? _ Two years now you have abandoned the city below, siphoned off supplies that we need for our defense, and for what? I have friends who still believe in your goodness, but you have made it difficult for me to do the same. Will you use your power in defense of justice? Or will you declare yourself an enemy of Mantle, concerned only with your fortress in the sky?”

As the static fades, Jacques’s own eyes stare into his soul. He can’t keep himself from shuddering, even as the picture unfreezes and those  _ insufferable _ reporters are back on.

“I think we’re back,” Skye says. “That was certainly something. For those of you just tuning in: we just had a new broadcast from Vox Faunus themselves, and I’m not even sure what to say. Their broadcast suggests with rather compelling evidence that this orb, ‘Profit-Taker,’ was sent by Jacques Schnee himself. Can we confirm this? Can we identify the pilot?”

Jacques hits the mute button again. He doesn’t need to hear it. He doesn’t  _ want _ to hear it. Clearly, this has gone on long enough, and if Arthur Watts and Profit-Taker couldn’t ferret out Vox from the rest of the miners? Couldn’t even kill the one person responsible for these slanderous broadcasts? 

It’s time for some spring cleaning. 

He stoops to pick up his scroll, wincing as he does at the now prominent crack, but it does the job. He hits the button to call someone else entirely.

Jacques receives an answer immediately.  _ “Yes, Mr. Schnee?” _

“Release the Grimm,” he says.

_ “I’m sorry?” _

“The creatures of Grimm. Release them.  _ All _ of them.” Something else occurs to him. “And before you do, lock all entrances and exits from the mine. Besides any exits you need to get your own personnel out, of course.”

There is a long pause. Too long.

_ “Understood, sir. What of the miners?” _

“What of them?” Jacques nearly laughs. “What do you think? They’ve clearly thrown their hand in with  _ Vox Faunus. _ Let’s show them how  _ Councilman Schnee _ deals with terrorists, shall we? Unless, of course, you’d like me to find someone else willing to do it.”

_ “No sir. Right away sir. We’ll do our best to contain any news of this tragic accident from getting out as well.” _

“Naturally. This conversation never happened.”

Jacques sets down the scroll, a bit further from the edge this time. Idly, he makes a mental note to get a new scroll, a cracked yet functional one certainly won’t do for Councilman Schnee. Then, the gravity of what he just ordered hits him.

And he smiles.

* * *

Qrow should be less surprised than he is to not be the last one here. Then again, it’s not like Clover to be late. Not unless—

Wherever his thoughts would have gone, they’re abruptly cut off by the entrance of a dark-haired woman bound by gravity bolas and wearing what looks like an SDC uniform. Suspiciously familiar to those goons that jumped the group when they’d barely gotten into the kingdom.

Clover’s just behind her, stone-faced. “This is her, General.”

“Good.” Ironwood’s frown deepens. “Can you state your name and place of employment for the record?”

“Oscura Loom. Currently unemployed, I quit, wasn’t the only one. Formerly employed as an enforcer at the Schnee Dust Company western mines.” Oscura only now seems to notice just how crowded Ironwood’s office is. “I recognize the Ace Ops and your Special Operatives, but not the rest of you…”

Beyond the Ops and Qrow, there’s Winter on Ironwood’s right and Penny on his left, and the kids he has with him. Jaune, leaning on Ren a little more than he really needs to despite his half-healed wound, and beside them Oscar.

“They are an elite team selected to deal with matters the Ace Operatives cannot,” Clover says, closing the door behind them. “Beyond that, it’s none of your business.”

Ironwood gives Clover a sharp look, but does not correct him. “Thank you for joining us, Ms. Loom. Captain Ebi, if you would?”

Clover undoes the bolas.

“Thank you.” Oscura doesn’t sound particularly thankful. “I was under the impression I was  _ not _ being arrested for providing you with this information?”

“You’re not. You’re free to go now, if you wish. However, you  _ did _ imply you had something useful to tell us, and should you give up this information now we may be willing to issue one less arrest warrant for an SDC employee.”

_ “Former _ SDC employee. I will  _ not _ be intimidated by a general who can’t even keep his own technology in line.” She glares pointedly at Penny, who visibly shrinks away.

Beside him, Jaune balls his hands into fists. “She’s not—”

“Bold words for an academy dropout,” Ironwood cuts in. “How many years ago would you have graduated, if you  _ had _ graduated? Five? Six?”

“Seven. It has been seven  _ long _ years. I want my huntress license. Give me that,” Oscura spreads her hands disarmingly, “and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Sir,” Winter says, “you can’t possibly—”

Ironwood takes out his scroll, and presses a button. “Done. What prompted you to quit your job?”

Oscura takes her time pulling out her scroll. Once she’s satisfied with the license displayed on it, she puts it away. “Someone ordered us to release the Grimm.”

“The  _ what?” _ Elm exclaims.

“The Grimm we keep in cages, in the mines, to keep our workers in line and quell any chance of unionization.” Oscura seems remarkably nonplussed by this. “Oh,  _ Ironwood. _ You didn’t honestly think Mr. Schnee  _ listened _ when your inspector told him to remove them two years ago? Or that said inspector killed  _ himself _ so soon before he was set to look again, leaving you scrambling for a replacement?” She clicks her tongue, clearly disappointed.

“That information is  _ classified,” _ Ironwood says.

“I’m sure your side of it is. But the company keeps a  _ shockingly _ detailed record of nearly all of its activities, legal or not. And during a Grimm attack, even the most well-protected of computer terminals are suddenly left wide open.”

Marrow takes a step forward. “So you released Grimm into the mines, the mines that I happen to know very well do not allow weapons inside, and your first priority was  _ stealing information?” _

“As a matter of fact, it was. I am no fool. Whoever ordered that attack—although I have my suspicions the order came from the  _ very _ top—is going to need a scapegoat. I had no intention of becoming one myself.” Oscura gives him an unimpressed look and continues, “And for the record,  _ I _ did not release Grimm into the mines. I and a few of my coworkers walked off the job right then. Although, I suppose there was a lot less  _ walking _ and a lot more  _ running, _ all things considered.”

“And why,” Clover asks, “are we hearing this from  _ you?” _

“Isn’t it obvious?” Getting nothing from the others, Oscura shrugs and continues, “They didn’t want news of this getting out. By the time any major news outlets know about it, it’ll be easily handwaved as a tragic accident. If it somehow isn’t? It won’t be Jacques Schnee paying the price, we all know that.”

“We’ll see,” Ironwood’s gripping his human arm so hard with his prosthetic that Qrow strongly suspects it’ll bruise. Or maybe not. Clover’s a little closer to him than Qrow is. “You have files concerning these activities?”

“Not  _ just _ that. Here.” Oscura taps a few buttons on her scroll and passes it to Ironwood. “Keep the scroll, I’ll get a new one. I’ll send you the password once I’m off Solitas. Or, you’re welcome to guess it yourself, of course.”

With that, Oscura melts into the shadows, and she’s gone.

Ironwood glares at the scroll but sets it down on the edge of his desk. “You should have kept her in cuffs.”

“Of course sir.” Clover doesn’t mention who ordered him to release her binds in the first place.

* * *

It  _ was _ a quiet day in the mines. For the first hour, it was much like any other shift Ruby had worked. And then all hell broke loose. 

Or more accurately, all hell was deliberately set loose. 

Ruby had known the gist of what Eudico was planning to say before the broadcast aired. She’d run her notes by people who had dealt with Ironwood in the past—RWBY, Nora, and though Eudico was more than a little skeptical, Biz—to figure out if Vox even had a chance of getting through to him.

For her part, Ruby might not know what he’s planning, but she thought he’d listen. Her friends thought much the same way. And everyone was so focused on Ironwood that they all but forgot about Jacques. 

The first sign of trouble is a distant scream. Ruby’s head snaps up from her work, and then Blake just beside her. Blake’s ears swivel to the sides, and then fold down. 

“All around us,” Blake says. “Sounds like Grimm.”

Ruby drops her shovel. “You don’t think…”

Her mind flashes back to the very first evening they arrived, being dragged into the mines between rows of cages, each holding some terrible form of Solitas-specific Grimm. 

“Let’s go.” Blake abandons her post as well and they run through the nearest tunnel, heading vaguely back toward the entrance. 

Both reach for their weapons but find nothing. Even after being returned, they can’t be brought into the mines. And Blake’s is somewhere up in Atlas, being repaired. 

Two other miners enter the passageway beside them, but split off fifty feet further down toward a side exit. Ruby and Blake hesitate for a moment to watch, but the tugging at a bolted door only confirms their suspicions. Ruby waves the pair back with her before they set off again. 

“What do we do?” one cries. “Why are the Grimm out? We’re unarmed!”

But unarmed or not, there’s a Grimm fast approaching down the tunnel behind them, and they have to do  _ something. _ A sabyr – only one, but there are surely more around every corner. They’d certainly walked past enough enforcer outposts on the way down to this section. 

“I won’t let anyone else die here!” Ruby announces, and balls her hands into fists. 

But it’s Blake who turns to face the beast first. She jogs a few steps toward it and stands her ground as it leaps, jaws open wide. 

Violet aura flares around her palms as the sabyr’s fangs press into them. Blake grabs the tips and bends her whole body to the side, throwing the beast to the ground. She plants a foot on its head and yanks out one fang, then sinks it into the sabyr’s neck. 

“What was that?” Ruby asks as the Grimm dissolves into smoke. 

Blake shrugs. “Just a trick I picked up from Ren. Of course, he does it to king taijitus. Also learned a bit from Yang, teaching me to stand my ground and not, you know…” She blinks to the side and an afterimage slowly fades out from where she had stood before. 

Alarms finally start blaring as they continue on. Probably Eudico’s doing, somewhere else in the mine. They pick up a few more workers on their way, forming into a loose order of Ruby in the front and Blake taking up the rear. A few of the miners carry pickaxes or shovels, barely effective in a fight – but barely effective is better than empty-handed. 

Screams for help grow louder as the group approaches an intersection. A single faunus man runs in from one side, looking back over his shoulder, and his eyes light up at the sight of others on their way. Too out of breath to describe his pursuers, he simply points frantically behind him. But as he tries to change course into the relative safety, his foot catches on a rock and he falls flat on the frozen ground. 

Ruby leaps forward to put herself between the man and whatever Grimm are pursuing him. Unarmed combat has never been her strong suit, but she did practice a lot at Haven. And as she’s told all these workers who are following her, she is  _ not _ going to let anyone die on her watch. 

She gets a glimpse of three sabyrs and throws her arms wide. She needs to be the target herself, and she can always use her own body and aura as a shield for the workers if it comes to it. 

And in a flash of white, the sabyrs are gone. Nothing remains but drifting ash. 

Ruby blinks rapidly and puts a hand to her head. “Well that’s convenient,” she mumbles, and staggers a few steps to the side before her brief dizziness clears. 

Murmurs rise from the group, but Ruby ignores them. She beckons them onward, toward the main entrance. 

“Ruby! Do you think you could do that again?” Blake calls up from the back of the line. 

“That’s the plan! But I need everyone in one place!” She holds up her scroll, then slides it open to dial Eudico. Moments later, the alarms pause for an announcement to come through the loudspeakers. 

“All mine workers, come to the entrance cavern at once! Side exits have been sealed and the enforcers have abandoned us. Meet up  _ here _ and Vox Faunus will defend you. I repeat, come to the main entrance! We will all be safer if we band together.”

Ruby waves the group onward again. They’re not far now, though the twisting tunnels keep the end out of sight. Just a few more corners to turn and they’ll be in the large cavern under the main entrance, where all the primary shafts converge. 

But even that short distance isn’t safe. A different type of Grimm comes scuttling down the path ahead of them – four feet high and vaguely beetle-like, more likely a wild specimen drawn to the panic than one previously captured and let loose. 

The miners cower at the sight and their fear only draws it onward, but Ruby stands her ground. She has people to protect, and weapon or not, she will. 

Ruby raises a hand to point at the beetle Grimm. “No!”

It’s not a scream this time. Not a desperate cry against fate. 

It’s an order.  _ No. _ You may  _ not _ harm these people. I will not allow it. 

White light floods the tunnels again, and when it fades only a wisp of smoke is left in their path. It’s easier the second time. Almost intentional, even. Ruby shakes her head briefly, and continues on. 

A crowd has already gathered in the main cavern when the group arrives. At least fifty miners plus the dozen or so accompanying Ruby and Blake, and more trickle in by ones and twos every moment. 

“Red! Shadow! Over here!” Eudico waves them closer. She’s standing at the front of the crowd, with Biz’s grattler cannon once again in hand. “You said you’ve got something that can stop the Grimm? We need every weapon we can get.”

Eudico points around at where Biz and LD stand with guns of their own. “We’re picking off most of them as they come in, but  _ damn _ we could really use Rudy’s help about now. We need more guns! What have you got for us?”

“It’s… not a weapon, exactly,” Ruby says. Eudico wasn’t there when she’d explained silver eyes to the Happy Huntresses, but Ticker and LD might understand. “It’s just something I can do, when I’m protecting people. Against Grimm.”

“Alright, well, do your thing. We’ve got everyone with unlocked auras in the front row, as a shield in case one gets through. Thursby’s been working on unbolting the door, but if he hasn’t got it by now we might just have to blow it up.”

“I can help him with that.” Blake disappears into the crowd, headed for the thick metal doors that mark the mine’s exit. 

“Ideally I’d like things quiet,” Ruby says, “but I can do this. I’m already in the right mindset, just from escorting those people here. But if this works, I’m going to be blind for as long as I’m doing it, and I’ll need somebody to tell me where the Grimm are. And hold your fire. Don’t shoot unless they’re coming from two directions at once.”

“Uh, okay. I hope you know what you’re doing, because I’m not quite seeing the plan yet myself.”

Ruby only nods, and steps out away from the crowd. “Life is beautiful,” she murmurs to herself, with eyes shut tight. “Life is precious. These lives are defenseless, and  _ I _ will be the one to protect them.”

“Sabyrs, two o’clock!” 

Ruby’s head snaps to the right to face the threat. Her eyes open and a narrow cone of light pours out, burning the pair of Grimm to ashes before her hand is even fully raised to point at them. She blinks a few times, then closes her eyes again and takes a deep breath. 

The cavern still echoes with screams both from behind her and from deeper in the tunnels and that makes it hard to focus… but she doesn’t really  _ need _ to focus like she did at Argus. Happy memories of her teammates, her friends, her mother… they can help ground her, remind her what she’s fighting for, but right now that reason is clear as day: a mass of huddled faunus ten steps behind her that can’t possibly leave the forefront of her mind. 

“What in the Void was  _ that?” _

Nearby, Little Duck seems just as confused as her targets vanished before even her quick aim could find them. But she quickly shrugs it off and snipes another sabyr far down a tunnel, before it even reached Eudico’s sight. 

“Why would they bring an  _ ursa _ down here? Nine o’clock!” Eudico calls out another direction and Ruby follows, but the ursa is not alone. “Wait, straight ahead, twelve o’clock, more sabyrs!”

More sabyrs, pursuing three faunus. That’s the more urgent target. That’s where the lives that need protecting are. 

That’s where a flash of light can make the difference between life and death. Two heavy shots ring out to her left, and the ursa falls as well. 

“Whatever that magic spotlight thing is, keep it up! Looks like Grimm from all sides!” Indeed, the gathering of nearly a hundred now is radiating more negativity than the stragglers left in the tunnels, and all nearby Grimm are making their way to the main cavern. Eudico switches her scroll from scanner to messaging. “Report from farther in,” she continues. “Some workers barricaded themselves in a Grimm cage for safety but the beasts all suddenly left. Probably coming our way.”

“I won’t let  _ anyone _ get hurt here,” Ruby declares, scowl on her face and both hands balled into fists. She looks Eudico in the eyes and the faunus flinches back at the sight of glowing silver irises. 

The growing crowd of terrified workers draws ever more Grimm to the mine entrance and Ruby hardly gets a moment’s rest. It’s exhilarating, holding this much power, but also terrifying – but the clamor all around her is no longer a distraction. The cries at each new Grimm, turning to murmurs of wonder and relief when it falls… the trusting touch of Eudico’s hand on her shoulder to guide her searing gaze… even the gunshots from Vox on either side only serve to fuel Ruby’s energy and maintain her conviction toward safeguarding the lives behind her. 

“Mine workers! Faunus! Citizens of Mantle!” Eudico’s voice rings out through the cavern, quieting the crowd. “Remember this day! Remember that you, among dozens of other innocent lives, were attacked at your workplace by the very people who depend upon your labor! Your lives have been put at risk, and for what? Not profit, for without you there would be no dust to sell! Not justice, for it is no crime to work a job! No, you have been endangered purely out of Jacques Schnee’s  _ spite!” _

Eudico spares a glance at Ruby, whose cone of light no longer even flickers out as she turns her head between one Grimm and the next, and continues her speech. “Make no mistake, he wants us all dead. Why? Because he wants to destroy the group Vox Faunus. He calls them terrorists, but what have they really done? It was members of Vox–” even if not yet, at the time, “–who got your wages doubled! It was members of Vox who turned away the Profit-Taker Orb! And it is members of Vox who are protecting you right now!”

She takes a deep breath, then raises a fist in the air. “And today I, Eudico Bruin, Floor Boss, am proud to call myself Vox Faunus!”

Farther away at one side of the crowd, Biz looks up in alarm. Did she really just admit that in front of everyone? He raises his own fist and shouts, “I, Theodore Berzins, am proud to be Vox Faunus!”

There, now it can be interpreted as a newly claimed allegiance, rather than telling the world she’s been behind it from the start. 

“I, Catherine Kneipe, am proud to be Vox Faunus!” Wait, who? Ruby’s light swivels toward the voice and blinks out for just a moment to see Little Duck with one hand raised. She’s hardly even recognizable without her dark blue coat and hood, especially when going by an unfamiliar, civilian name. 

The next call goes up from behind the crowd. “I, Blake Belladonna, am proud to support Vox Faunus!”

Ticker follows suit from somewhere in the middle. And at the sight of her – unarmed, looking casual in her ever-present beanie, in every way appearing no different from anyone else – the trend Biz started finally catches on. 

Members of the crowd who are definitely  _ not _ members of Vox start raising their fists one by one and sending up the same shout. Just a few at first, then their neighbors, then more and more until the entire atmosphere in the cavern has shifted from fear into joyous solidarity. 

And in the excitement no one notices, at first, when out in front of the crowd Ruby Rose sinks to her knees. 

The white light sweeping over the cavern winks out, leaving Little Duck to pick off the two wild centinels that burrowed out of the wall before either can threaten the crowd. A quick glance tells her all she needs to know, and moments later she’s at Ruby’s side, kneeling with her rifle while Ruby rests on hands and knees. 

“You okay there, Red?”

“First time I did this, one burst of light knocked me out for days afterward,” Ruby pants. “So comparatively, yeah, I’m doing great.” She raises her head to look at the single beetle-Grimm trundling in ahead of her, but it falls to a shot from Biz before she can bring up the light again. 

A loud bang comes from behind and Ruby startles, but lacks the energy to stand and look. Little Duck stares into each tunnel in turn, but seeing no further Grimm she sets down her gun and throws Ruby’s arm over her shoulders to lift her up. 

“I, Thursby Crane, am proud to be part of Vox Faunus!” A voice shouts from the back. “And I’m equally proud to announce that  _ the door is open!” _

Immediately the mine workers start flooding out, up the long staircase to the surface. Out there the wreckage of Profit-Taker is still scattered around and a crater mars one side of the loading field, but there’s nothing to fear from it anymore. Out there, everyone will be free to run or drive to safety. 

Eudico and Blake stay behind and gather around by Ruby as well. “That was some show you put on,” Eudico says. “Never seen – never even  _ heard _ of anything like it before. You can kill Grimm with your  _ eyes?” _

Ruby nods. “One of us can explain later. Good job to you too there… getting everyone united behind us.” She feebly raises one hand barely over her head. “I, Ruby Rose… think I’m about to pass out, actually.”

Her eyelids flutter shut, and she collapses into Blake’s waiting arms. 

* * *

“What do we do, sir?” 

Ironwood paces back and forth in front of his desk. “I don’t know,” he admits, and holds up the scroll that SDC enforcer had given him. “What we can legally get away with depends on what’s in here. How much proof we have. I don’t suppose anyone in this room can crack it? Penny?”

“I will do my best, sir!” Penny flashes a smile as she takes the scroll. She puts a hand to the inside of her upper arm, and freezes. She glances down, runs her fingers down her long sleeve to the end, and then announces, “I will be right back!” 

As Penny trots out the door in search of an adapter cable and a bit of privacy, Jaune speaks up. “Someone needs to get into the mines right now and save anyone we can. Ren and I aren’t military. We can go in off the books.”

“You two have got classified missions on your records,” Harriet points out. “You get yourselves in trouble, it will still reflect back on all of us.” 

“So do I,” Qrow replies. “Never stopped me before.”

Winter sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but last I checked the General is  _ not _ Ozpin. You can’t just—”

“Do what?”

“Do whatever you want, whenever you want, with no tangible consequences. This is  _ not _ the same, and if you thought it was, you thought  _ wrong. _ This is  _ war, _ on multiple fronts, and we can’t afford the PR disaster that might happen.”

“Keyword there being  _ might. _ You’re willing to sacrifice people’s lives because you don’t want to mess up your image?”

“It’s not  _ my _ image I’d be messing up.” Winter narrows her eyes. “And you’re one to talk, considering that my sister is  _ still _ missing because of  _ you.” _

Standing beside the rest of the Ace Ops, Clover subtly flicks his pin.

_ “Enough!” _ All eyes go to Ironwood. “While I agree that ensuring the safety of Team RWBY and Nora Valkyrie is a high priority, I have been assured by all of you over and over that, wherever they  _ are, _ they’re fine. Is this wrong?”

Winter looks suspiciously like she wants to say something different, but she ducks her head and says, “No sir.”

“Besides—if it’s a choice between maintaining my image and doing what’s right? Unlike someone else we know,” his gaze flicks briefly to Oscar, “I will choose protecting my people in the ways that really matter over simply maintaining my image with them.” 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who he’s referring to there. Qrow looks distinctly uncomfortable, but nods in agreement. 

Ozpin is going to have a lot to answer for, if of course he  _ doesn’t _ just disappear entirely until everyone who knows his secrets is dead. Everyone except, of course, Salem herself.

“We have to hope that Penny can get something useful off that scroll,” Ironwood continues, “but that can’t stop us if she doesn’t. Jaune, you still aren’t cleared for active duty after your injury, and we need Penny here, so the two of you will have to sit this one out. Everyone else: we have a mission, and time is of the essence. Let’s move!”

As if on cue, Jaune’s scroll makes a loud  _ ping! _ He winces. “Sorry, I’ll turn that… oh! Hey, wait, they might be alright!”

“Is that from—”

“Blake,” Ren supplies, peering over Jaune’s shoulder.

“She sent a message about what’s going on in the mines.” Jaune scrolls down to read more of it. “Apparently Vox Faunus stepped in to save everyone. Ruby helped with her, well, you know. Eye thing. And it looks like… it turned out okay! Better than it could have, that’s for sure. Almost all of the miners got out.”

“Is that all?” Ironwood asks. “In that case, we probably  _ don’t _ need to launch an operation to help with that. It’s likely for the best we don’t run into them—Vox Faunus all but admitted they were working with the Happy Huntresses to sabotage Amity, and I don’t want to put any of you in harm’s way unnecessarily.”

“Well, it’s not  _ everything, _ but… uh,” Jaune grins sheepishly. “I don’t really want to read the rest of this out loud. Let’s just say Blake is  _ convinced _ that Jacques Schnee was behind the Grimm attack, and spent the next several paragraphs going very colorfully in-depth about just how much of a horrible person he is. I certainly don’t disagree.”

Murmured noises of assent fill the room. Nobody likes Jacques Schnee, but the issue is what to do about him. Eventually, it’s agreed they’ll all meet here in the morning, after Ironwood has had some time to mull it over.

Of course, by morning, a little cream-colored envelope has arrived. That little cream-colored envelope, sealed with the Schnee crest, changes everything.

* * *

“The Relic of Knowledge…” Salem stares at the lamp in her hands. “How do— no…” No questions. Not even talking softly to herself in this dark hideout in the underbelly of Mantle. No chance of making a mistake.

“I have to do something to activate you. You have a name.” It’s a statement now. Salem racks her brain for the distant memory, centuries past, of a man who had left Ozpin’s inner circle to come over to her side. A man who had watched the Relic in use, and told Salem everything he knew. And the Relic’s name was…

“Jinn!”

That’s definitely it. The blue color of the lamp’s inside leaks out in a cloud and the lamp floats out of her hands. Something is happening, and Salem jumps to her feet to shut the curtains on the grimy windows. There’s no one outside, but just in case.

The blue mist grows, and coalesces into the form of a human woman clad only in broken chains. She stretches as if waking up, then gazes down to meet her summoner’s eyes.

“Well, this is a first. Hello, Salem.” Without waiting for a greeting in return, she launches into her standard introduction. “I am Jinn, a being created by the God of Light to aid humanity in their pursuit of knowledge. I have been graced with the ability to answer three questions every one hundred years. You’re in luck, as I still have one question remaining.”

“Hmm…” Salem purses her lips. “Well, that adds some pressure. I will have to think carefully.” She pauses just a moment, then speaks again slowly, considering each word. “There are many things I would like to know. Since one could conceivably ask about the contents of my own mind and receive an answer, you must know already every question I might ask.”

“I do. But it is up to you to choose one.” The barest hint of a smile flicks across Jinn’s face.

“But, since that knowledge exists within you, I believe I could potentially draw upon it by referring to ‘every question I would like to know the answer of’ in a single question that I ask you.”

“You do believe that.” Jinn betrays nothing about whether that belief is correct.

Salem glares at her. “I would appreciate it if you would – truthfully – confirm or deny certain statements I make.”

Jinn only smiles serenely down at her in silence.

Salem sighs. “You’re not going to make this easy.” She almost puts an ‘are you’ at the end, but manages to stop herself in time. “But,” she continues, “there are things I may need to know which I cannot ask about.”

She stares into the blue phantom’s eyes as if daring her to respond. “You stated that your purpose is to aid in the pursuit of knowledge. You can do so by telling me things I want to know, whether I specifically ask for them or not. Either way, knowledge is advanced.”

“Sadly, no.” Jinn shakes her head. “I said that I was given the ability to answer three questions each century. You correctly inferred that I know all things before being asked. There is another inference that you could make.”

“You’re  _ restricted _ to answering only three questions in every hundred years,” Salem realizes. “You would like to answer more because that’s your purpose for existence, but the God of Light bound you to only three.” Jinn only smiles at her, but Salem takes that as a yes. “That must be very annoying. Although… if there exists a way to circumvent it, you must know it already. The problem would be in  _ doing _ whatever it is… because you’re confined to the lamp when not called to answer questions.”

“You’re doing a very good job of not actually asking me anything,” Jinn observes. 

“As you said, I only get one. I need to make it count.” Salem paces back and forth a few times before finally settling on her next approach. “In order to serve your purpose better, by allowing me to craft exactly the question that would best fulfill my needs of knowledge, I will first require information on what restrictions or rules you may have.” She keeps her tone as flat as possible, to prevent that itself from being interpreted as a question. 

“A good point, and one the God of Light thought of. Questions that are specifically about my own functioning and nothing else are free.”

“I don’t trust that easily.” Salem crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll stick to statements, and if something I say could be answered for free if it were asked as a question, then you can pretend I did ask and tell me what I want to know. Now, suppose one were to ask about the future.”

“I cannot say with certainty anything about events that are yet to come,” Jinn replies. 

“I would like clarification on the words ‘with certainty’ there.”

“Humanity was endowed with the gift of Choice, and thus, the future is not written in advance. The best I can do is answer hypothetical questions in terms of probabilities.”

Salem nods slowly. “Okay… Now, about what I considered earlier, I would like to know the extent to which one could combine unrelated queries into fewer formal requests and receive a full answer.”

Jinn almost seems to be considering her words before she answers. But the slight, nearly imperceptible hesitation passes in an instant, and she gives Salem the best news she’s heard all evening. “It is not permitted to conjoin unrelated questions with a simple ‘and’, but more abstract wordings can often result in the same information given for a single question. I cannot give an infinitely long answer under any circumstances, and I cannot enumerate every member of an indeterminately sized class – even a well-defined one such as ‘everything I want to know’. However, there is still a good deal of room for cleverness.”

Before Salem can fully process all of that, Jinn flashes a smile and continues. “I encourage it, in fact. I admire creativity, so long as it is not to subvert my purpose toward a different end than knowledge. Now, I happen to  _ know _ that you no longer intend to ask me your one question at the moment, so I will leave you for now. However, the next time you call upon me, I will expect your question then.”

“Understood.” Salem nods again, giving her respect to the spirit of the Relic. “Thank you, Jinn. You’ve been very informative.”

“It’s refreshing to have someone else to talk to for once,” Jinn says. “Especially one so adept at holding a conversation in statements alone. I look forward to our next meeting. I’m sure you’ll come up with something interesting for me.”

The mist comprising Jinn’s body swirls in a wind Salem can’t feel, and in moments a lamp rests back in her hands. 

Salem immediately sets the lamp down and whips out her scroll to take notes on what she’s learned. Just ‘and’ isn’t enough. No infinite answers. No group of questions of unknown size… but there was no mention of a definite list. She doesn’t know the future but can make  _ very _ well educated guesses. And most importantly, don’t summon her again until a question is ready. 

Then, in a separate note, ideas for the longer term. There  _ might _ be a way to get around the three-question limit… but it would likely take multiple questions just to figure out what to do. That’s a problem for a few centuries from now, assuming she can make it out of the current crisis with the lamp still in her possession. 

A current crisis which takes this wonderful opportunity to make itself just that much worse. 

The door to Salem’s safehouse – such as it is, more of a dingy hole in the wall – bursts open and thuds against the wall. Watts staggers in, half conscious and with a pronounced limp, and takes a grand total of three steps before collapsing face down on the floor. 

“What happened to you…?” Salem kneels beside him, and gently rolls him over onto his back. 

Watts stares up at the ceiling with a wide grin on his face. “Did a favor,” he says dreamily. “For an old friend. Won’t be doing that again…”

“Let’s get you off the floor and then you can explain to me  _ exactly _ what you got yourself into.” Salem grabs him under the shoulders and drags him over to a reclining chair, where Watts uses his one good leg to push himself up. 

“Your leg isn’t just hurt, it’s broken,” Salem notices. 

“It is!” Watts exclaims, still staring blankly past Salem with the same grin plastered on his face. “Lifepod’s door was open when it launched, so it wouldn’t fly straight. I crashed out in the tundra!”

“And you walked on a broken leg for however many miles to get back here. I commend you on your dedication, but… that may be beyond healing, at this point.” Salem frowns. “You’ll need a replacement.”

“I can make one! I just need my tools. Where…”

“You’re in no state to be making anything. You’re clearly delirious from the pain. Just rest. I can try to find you some medicine shortly.”

“Not delirious. I’m  _ safe!” _ Watts feebly tries to pump a fist in the air. “Tundra, alone, can’t fight… got to be happy or the Grimm will come. So I drugged myself! I always carry a backup dose. It’s great, you should try it sometime!”

Salem sighs. “Oh dear… So that’s why you’re smiling so much. It’s weird seeing you do that.”

“Not deer… puffins! I went around to avoid the pack. Extra two miles!”

Salem rests her face in her hands for a moment, then brings out her scroll again. A few taps brings up the messaging app, directed to Tyrian.  _ “Finish what you’re doing and return quickly,” _ she types.  _ “Bring back the strongest pain medication you can find.” _

An acknowledgement comes at once, and Salem turns back to Watts. “You just lay there for a while and get that out of your system. I’ll be back soon.”

She picks up the lamp off the table, hooks it onto the dark red sash she uses to carry it, and slips out the door. A bit of illusion magic conceals the lamp as just a flower ornament at the side of her dress, so long as no one touches it to feel the outline. 

Tyrian can handle breaking into a pharmacy. Her job will be to bring back a Grimm. 


	21. Part 2 Episode 7: Cordially Invited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinder reads the news. Blake and Weiss finally have a much needed conversation with Ruby before heading up to Atlas, and they've scarcely left before Eudico gets yet another visitor. At long last, Team RWBY and Nora reunite with their friends. Maria learns of another silver-eyed warrior, and Salem's plans continue almost exactly the way she wants them to.

Cinder  _ hates _ waiting. Always has, always will. 

Luckily, despite hating it, she’s gotten very good at waiting anyway. But that doesn’t make it any easier, especially when the awaited time is  _ so close. _ It was… disappointing, to say the least, to find out that ‘Little Red’ wasn’t with her friends in the military at all.

Disappointment quickly turned to exhilaration when Cinder realized what that meant. Ruby’s a survivor—Cinder’s outlived enough people to recognize that trait in others—which means she can’t expect her to die unless she makes sure of it herself.

That’s not a bad thing at all. In fact, Cinder would like nothing more. That means Ruby has to be  _ somewhere, _ either in Atlas or in Mantle. The ‘missing’ members of her group are undoubtedly in one of Ozpin’s little hidey-holes, and  _ he _ wouldn’t have had one in Mantle.

Unfortunately, the search has been slow going, because Cinder can’t exactly show herself in public. So, Neo’s been doing most of the searching, and she’s become increasingly insistent that Ruby isn’t actually up in Atlas at all. 

She’s  _ scarily _ competent, to tell the truth. Cinder can’t fathom why someone as skilled as her would work for a useless fool like Roman Torchwick instead of it being the other way round, but the one time Cinder tried to ask, Neo didn’t take it particularly well.

Cinder might try again once they deal with Ruby. Or she might not, so long as she can figure out what made Neo so infuriatingly loyal to a rather unremarkable crime boss. If only she’d  _ actually _ been the one to kill him, she might have had more leverage.

Or, she might have been completely unable to even talk Neo into joining forces against Ruby. Maybe this is for the best. She’ll figure out what makes Neo tick eventually—and if all else fails, she could always just kill her. Probably should anyway, eventually. That much competence can’t be left unsupervised. 

Think of the devil and she shall appear. Neo slips in the door in her (rather pretty, Cinder will admit) disguise, and in a mass of pink sparkles her semblance fades away.

“You’re back early,” Cinder observes, turning from where she’s been standing, overlooking the city, and brooding. Not necessarily in that order. “I hope it’s because you have good news.”

Neo rolls her eyes, and transforms into Ruby. There’s a slightly-crumpled newspaper under her arm, and Neo-as-Ruby passes it over without a word, as usual.

Front page.  _ ATTACK ON THE MINES. _ Nothing  _ looks _ that promising, just some story about Jacques Schnee doing his usual disgusting rich man things and walking all over everyone who disagreed. Cinder respects the new Vox Faunus that has resurfaced, but not enough to seek them out. Certainly not enough to help them.

“What does this have to do with Ruby?” Cinder asks.

As she transforms back into herself, Neo’s mismatched eyes narrow. She jabs a gloved thumb at the front page article.

Cinder sighs and begins to read. About halfway down the page, she understands why. Vox Faunus did a lot to keep people safe… from the Grimm that were apparently being held in the mines, Cinder’s annoyed but not surprised. But they couldn’t have held them all off on their own, and multiple miners told the same story of a young girl in red, holding Grimm off with nothing but light from her eyes.

It doesn’t name Ruby, but who else could it be? Silver-eyed warriors aren’t exactly common, after all, and for good reason. Salem’s been exceedingly effective over the years at flushing them out and eliminating them.

“Now what, I wonder, was she  _ doing _ in the SDC mines?” Cinder passes the newspaper back to Neo. “Awfully convenient that she was there at the right time, don’t you think?”

Neo nods, and looks at her meaningfully. She motions for her to continue.

“Almost like  _ she _ was working there herself.”

Neo nods again, this time in confirmation.

“You’re certain?”

Tapping a button to switch on her scroll, Neo turns it around so Cinder can see the screen. It’s a picture of a book of some sorts, maybe a sign-in sheet. No, that’s exactly what it is: a sign-in sheet for the SDC mines, one Cinder zooms in to read better. Halfway down the page, scribbled in the same pen everyone else used, is a name: Ruby Rose.

“Interesting. Didn’t think she was a faunus.” Cinder shrugs. “Not that it matters, she’s dying regardless. Any other leads on where she is now?”

Neo shrugs in return, a perfect copy of Cinder’s past movement. Cinder sighs, only to get an idea and scroll to the top of the sign-in sheet. There, in the space marked  _ On-Shift Floor Boss, _ is an entirely different name: Eudico Bruin.

“If whoever’s in charge doesn’t know where she’s staying, I’m sure they’ll know someone who does.”

Cinder smiles. Tentatively, Neo smiles back. Their revenge is, at last, nearly within reach. While she would prefer working with someone she knows won’t stab her in the back as soon as Ruby is dead, this means Salem doesn’t have to know a thing.

* * *

Blake wasn’t sure until now, but now she’s certain: Ruby is  _ definitely _ avoiding her and Weiss both. She’s pretty sure it started the day after Profit-Taker, but it might not have actually been  _ because _ of Profit-Taker. It might have been because of her and Yang and Weiss, piled up on the couch in the middle of the night for some good gay cuddles.

Blake had  _ thought _ she’d heard something then, a panicked step back and the swish of Ruby’s semblance, but she’d thought she imagined it.

Except maybe, she hadn’t. Or maybe she had imagined it and Ruby had witnessed any other of their, Blake will admit,  _ several _ public displays of affection over the last few days. Whatever had happened, the point stands that Ruby’s avoiding them, and Blake is almost certain she knows why.

“I mean, maybe?” Yang shrugs. “She’s not avoiding  _ me, _ but obviously she’s not crushing on me. I just happen to be dating both of her crushes at the moment. Which is… probably pretty awkward. You two should talk to her.”

“Yang. Xiao. Long.” Weiss sighs for emphasis. “The trouble with talking to her is that, as Blake said, she’s  _ avoiding us.” _

“So? Eudico’s apartment isn’t that big.”

“And Ruby is very good at running away.” One of Blake’s ears twitch. “Which I’ll admit is ironic, coming from me.”

“Very,” Weiss agrees. “You’re sure she likes us back? And you don’t mind us dating your sister too?”

Yang snorts. “Yes, she likes you both. No, I don’t mind, the two of you can date whoever you want to in addition to me, that’s kind of the point of polyamory.”

“When did  _ you _ become an expert?”

“When I got two girlfriends, maybe the next day, I dunno but listen. Or look, or both, I don’t care.” Yang turns around her scroll. “Rubes just texted me that she called the military and set everything up. We’re getting picked up pretty soon,  _ probably _ the boys will be there to meet us and even if they aren’t, you’re gonna miss your chance. Eudico’s apartment isn’t that big, but I bet where we’ll be staying with the military is.”

“The issue with doing something is that we actually have to have the  _ opportunity _ to do something.”

“You’re right,” Blake says, “but I don’t think we’re going to get an opportunity unless we make one. Yang, can I borrow that for a second?”

“If you’re doing what I think you’re doing? Sure. If you’re doing anything else? I don’t really care enough to stop you.” 

Yang passes the scroll over. Blake scrolls up a bit, then back down to start typing. Does she really  _ need _ to mimic Yang’s typing style perfectly? Probably not, but it can’t hurt.

Once she’s done, she passes the scroll back to Yang, who reads over what she’s written and whistles appreciatively. “I’ll leave you to it, maybe keep Nora company. Maybe we’ll go find Eudico. Question, is it just me, or—”

“No, she’s  _ definitely _ into Ticker,” Weiss says, with a tad of her old irritation for entirely different reasons. “It’s reciprocated. Even  _ I _ can see that and I barely know either of them. They’re as bad as you and Blake were back at Beacon.”

“There is  _ no way _ we were  _ that _ bad,” Blake protests. “I heard from Eudico that the way they met was by  _ making out. _ To ‘avoid the authorities,’ if you can believe that.”

“Bullshit,” Yang says immediately. “Yeah, Matchmaker Yang is in the house, that’s so bad it’s painful. Seeya.”

Yang shuts the door behind her, leaving Weiss and Blake sitting on a blow-up mattress. They exchange glances.

“You’d think having two girlfriends already would make this easier,” Weiss says quietly.

Blake laughs. “Think of it this way: this goes well, and we’ll each have fifty percent more girlfriends than Yang does.”

“Thanks? I think?” Thoughtful for a moment, Weiss adds, “I  _ do _ like winning. I didn’t think it was a competition, though.”

“It’s not, don’t worry. Just a thought. Although if it  _ was _ a competition, we’d be winning.”

Instead of saying anything more, Weiss smiles. She takes Blake’s hand in hers, gives it a squeeze, and pulls it back just in time for Ruby to open the door.

Ruby takes one look at both of them, and freezes. “Um. Where’s Yang? Sorry, I’ll just… go.”

“Ruby,  _ wait,” _ Blake says urgently. “Please. We need to talk to you.”

“No, it’s—it’s fine. Really. I’ll just go, don’t let me bother you, I need to find Yang.”

Ruby awkwardly turns to leave, but before she’s turned all the way… are those  _ tears? _

“Ruby,  _ please,” _ Weiss says. “Please don’t make me put a glyph on the door just so you’ll actually listen to us for five seconds. Because I will.”

“Talk to us. We’re here for you.” Blake smiles, even though Ruby’s still turned away. “We’re your teammates, aren’t we?”

“You’re—” Ruby buries her face in her hands. When her next words come out, they’re muffled and fast. Not a good combination for understanding what she’s saying. “You’remyteammatesandIloveyoubothandI’msoconfusedbutIcan’tdateyoubothsoIfiguredYanglikesyoubothtoosoitwouldbefineI’djustkeepflirtingwithwhoeverYangdidn’tdatebutshe’sdatingyoubothandIfeellikeTeamRWBY’sdissolvingbeforemyeyesbecauseeveryone’sdatingeveryoneexceptmeand—”

Fortunately, Blake has enhanced hearing thanks to double the ears. So she gets most of it. Probably. “Ruby—”

_ “I’m sorry!” _

Weiss audibly sighs. She sets her scroll down on the mattress next to Blake, strides over to Ruby, and without anything remotely resembling a warning, kisses her on the lips. 

“Ruby. You’re insufferable, irresponsible, reckless, and have  _ very strange _ taste in anything not related to weapons or girls.” Weiss holds Ruby’s face in her hands, and continues,  _ “But _ you’re one of the bravest people I know. You never give up, not even when you probably  _ should. _ You’ll do anything if it’ll help someone out, no matter what the personal cost to yourself.”

“What Weiss is saying,” Blake adds, standing up as well, “is that we love you.  _ Both _ of us. Despite all your flaws—because come on, we’ve got flaws too, who doesn’t?”

“And obviously you can date two people at once. You could date more than that if you wanted. What’s stopping you?”

“You’re both dating  _ Yang.” _ Ruby sniffles. “It would be different if you were both dating anyone else, but…”

“Ah. That would be a pretty good reason. Minus the fact that of course you and Yang can date the same people while not dating each other. That’s kind of the whole idea. Date exactly who you want to, no more, no less.”

“Yeah. No way I’d date Yang, but you two are lucky to have her. I… are you sure?”

This time, it’s Blake’s turn to surprise-kiss her team leader. Ruby’s marginally more prepared for it this time. It isn’t enough to stop her from making the  _ cutest _ squeak of surprise before kissing back.

“We’re sure,” Blake whispers. Oh so gently, she pulls Ruby closer and touches their foreheads together. “Ruby, would you do us both the honor of being our girlfriend?”

“Oh my gods,” Ruby whispers. “Yes!”

“Yes!” Weiss pumps a fist in the air. “Now I have more girlfriends than Yang! I’m coming for you too, Blake!”

Ruby takes one look at her and bursts out laughing. “I love you too, Weiss. That’s... really strange to say! But really cool! I like it.”

Later, when the airship comes to take them all to Atlas, neither Jaune nor Ren comments on Yang piggybacking Weiss onboard, or on Weiss catching Blake in a low dip when she trips, or on Blake pecking Ruby on the cheek as she comes out of her semblance. But Ren and Jaune do exchange looks with each other as their team takes seats in a circle on the floor. 

Jaune has a reason to be there. They’ve got a half hour flight ahead of them and Nora could use some healing on the way. Ren’s only reason is that the two of them are his teammates. But Jaune doesn’t have a reason to be sitting so  _ close _ to both of them. He doesn’t need a hand on Ren’s shoulder as well as Nora’s. 

Unless, of course, he does.

* * *

“Welcome to Atlas.” General Ironwood looks over the two teams assembled before him. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long to bring you all here, but you’re all in one piece, and that’s what matters. I’m sure your friends are eager to show you around Atlas Academy and to your new rooms, but there is one order of business I’d like to attend to first.”

Team RWBY wait expectantly. It’s a relief to finally see Jaune, Ren, Oscar, and Qrow again, and it seems they’ve made some new friends as well. A proper introduction to the Ace Ops will have to wait, however. 

Ironwood pulls out a scroll and taps a few buttons. “I know you may think this early, but I wish I could have done it weeks ago, as I did for your friends when they arrived. You all fought for your school and your friends at Beacon. You fought for the world and the innocent at Haven Academy and beyond. You faced down terrors people can’t even imagine.”

Ruby exchanges glances with her team. Is Ironwood going where she thinks he’s going with this? Farther down the line and with one healing hand still on Nora’s shoulder, Jaune is practically beside himself with excitement. He must know what’s coming. 

“That’s not the behavior of students,” Ironwood continues. “It’s the behavior… of huntresses.”

The General taps buttons on his scroll one by one, and the girls’ scrolls vibrate with a notification. Nora’s is first, then Yang, Blake, Weiss, and… 

Ironwood’s eyes narrow. “That’s odd,” he says. “It says here you’re  _ already _ a huntress, Ruby. By my authorization.” 

Ruby is confused for a moment, then remembers. She struggles to keep the guilt off her face – after all, it wasn’t like she’d  _ asked _ Salem to hack the system on her behalf. She settles for an innocent smile and crossed fingers. “I am not a crook,” she swears. 

Ironwood chuckles. “I wouldn’t accuse you of anything. My finger must have slipped when I was promoting your friends a few weeks ago, that’s all. Congratulations, to all of you. You’ve earned it.”

Ruby glances at her friends. “We’re honored, General Ironwood.”

“It’s no trouble. With the threat of Salem still out there and tensions rising within the kingdom, I need all the trustworthy fighters that I can get by my side. I know every one of you will do your absolute best to help us stop her.”

Ruby looks down, staring at the huntress license displayed on her scroll. She would hate to let the General down, but… hasn’t she already? She met Salem face to face and neither made a move to harm the other. She’s contacted the enemy multiple times, and been strongly tempted to strike a mutually beneficial deal. Is that the sort of behavior Ironwood can trust? 

Next to her, Weiss reaches over to gently squeeze her hand. Ruby looks up and smiles. Her team already knows, and they’re with her. As for Ironwood and his allies? The team will figure something out, together. 

“Before we go,” Ruby says, keeping her scroll out even as the rest pocket theirs, “we have some business for you as well. I understand Penny was blamed for the attack on Robyn Hill and you’ve had a hard time clearing her name. I think we can help.”

Beside the General, Penny’s eyes widen. 

“That would be much appreciated,” Ironwood says. “What do you have?”

Ruby sends a quick text.  _ “With Ironwood now. Send me the footage.” _ A moment later a video comes in, and she steps forward to lay her scroll flat on Ironwood’s desk. 

The desk’s projector activates automatically to show the video Margulis had put together. The night of the election, a view from the stage looking out over the audience. The lights go out and the camera view shifts wildly, but Penny’s glowing eyes are always visible. She orders  _ someone _ to drop their weapons. A glint of light catches a curved blade – Penny’s eyes still far away across the stage – and the camera drops to face up at the dark ceiling. 

Ruby pauses the video. “The person I got this from believes Penny was framed by someone else in the military. I know it wasn’t you. But I didn’t see the attacker myself.”

“We’re pretty sure we know who it was,” Jaune speaks up. “Tyrian. I was grazed by his stinger. Went straight through my aura like it wasn’t even there.”

“But we’ve had no proof until now,” Ironwood says. “Tyrian Callows vanished from a prisoner transport years ago, somewhere in Anima. Is there anything else in that video?”

Ruby nods, and presses the play button again. The scene shifts to a view of the audience again, from a different spot on the stage. The lights go out, the screaming begins – and Penny bodily tackles the camera holder. Bright green aura sparks on her side as she takes a hit, and the light briefly illuminates a pointed object that most definitely is not a blade. 

The video freezes and backs up, then zooms in to play again in slow motion. The contrast is enhanced and an outline traced over the weapon: a stinger made of metal, being pulled quickly back after striking an invulnerable target. The video returns to normal speed, and stays focused on Penny as she stands and turns away from the camera. Her back compartment is open, but her swords are stationary, in guard position. 

“This is exactly what we needed,” Ironwood says as the projection finishes. “This video, with Mr. Arc’s medical report and Tyrian’s status as a wanted fugitive, should be enough. How did you get this?”

“We… made some friends in Mantle. They don’t much like  _ you _ , General, but they know Penny is innocent. Just take the help.”

Ironwood nods. “I understand. From those camera angles I can take a guess who recorded them. Tell them…” He sighs deeply. “Tell them I said thank you. And that I’d like them to stop stealing my trucks.”

“Got it.” Ruby picks up her scroll again and starts typing a message. Margulis is surely already listening through the camera in this very office, but there can’t be a word of that to the General. 

“If that’s all, you should all go get some rest. We’ve all got a dangerous mission this evening – though not of the Grimm sort.”

“It’s… not all.” Weiss steps forward with her own scroll. “We  _ also _ have proof that Jacques conspired to rig the election.”

Ironwood’s eyes widen. “Now that should be interesting, seeing as the whole Council and as many huntsmen and huntresses as I want to bring with me have all been invited to Jacques’s home for dinner tonight. Show us.”

Weiss connects her scroll to the projector and a view of Jacques’s office appears, showing the same familiar clip of Watts offering him a way to win. “This man here, someone we met in Mantle identified him. His name is–”

“Arthur Watts.” Ironwood paces back and forth, scowling. “I knew him, before he apparently  _ faked _ his death. I saw the video put out by Vox Faunus, using him as the link between Jacques and that robot. I didn’t quite believe it at the time, but… those two always  _ were _ good friends.”

“That’s all I had,” Weiss says. “What’s this about a dinner?”

“Clover can brief you later. Suffice it to say–”

Ruby’s scroll rings. “Sorry!” she says, patting at her pockets. She reaches in – no, the sound is coming from her other pocket. Her other scroll. She pulls it out, hoping no one will notice she placed a device in her right pocket and just produced one from the left, and answers. 

“Please just call back later,” Ruby rushes to say before Salem can get a word in edgewise. “I’m in a meeting. Huntress business.”

Ironwood raises an eyebrow. “One of your friends from the mines?”

Ruby holds the scroll away from her ear. “Oh, no, this is… my godmother! She… lives in Mantle,” she stammers. “Lost contact in the Fall of Beacon, but I found her again now.” She brings the scroll closer and speaks into it, too quickly, “So sorry, can’t talk right now. Love you, bye!”

It’s only after the scroll is back in her pocket that she realizes just what she said. 

“As I was saying…” Ironwood clears his throat. “Get some rest for now, and Clover will come by to brief you on the situation in an hour. We leave for Jacques’s place at six. Dismissed.”

* * *

It’s barely been an hour since the kids left for Atlas, and Eudico’s apartment already feels emptier without them. But Sparky needed proper medical treatment, the like you can only get from the military, and the rest of their friends were already up there. 

Obviously they weren’t going to stick around for too long—that much was abundantly clear even  _ before _ hearing about the whole saving-the-world thing—but Eudico thought she’d have a little longer before having to say goodbye.

There was Sparky, of course, with her  _ terrifyingly _ useful semblance and a head-on approach to nearly everything. Shadow, who’d been involved with the White Fang before,  _ knew _ how things could go horribly wrong, and still was more than eager to help out Vox. Red, who had apparently been able to vaporize Grimm with her eyes this whole time and managed to keep that secret when she couldn’t lie for shit on anything else.

And the other two, of course. Yang and Weiss, Red’s sister and her Schnee. Eudico had been skeptical at first, and for good reason, but that gamble had more than paid off. Weiss was shockingly  _ normal, _ for a Schnee. Hated Jacques just as much as anyone in the mines, actually pulled Eudico aside at one point to ask her to pass on a message to Vox: he really,  _ really _ hates bugs and creepy crawlies, keep it up.

Clearly nobody had told her that Eudico  _ was _ Vox, so Eudico had smiled knowingly and told her she’d pass on the message.

And now they’re gone.

“Missing them already, love?” Ticker observes.

“Yeah.” Eudico sighs, and stares into her mug. Her own face stares back up at her from her coffee. Maybe she should try and get more sleep. Or, alternatively, more coffee. “Obviously they’ll be fine, and we’ll be fine—don’t think Vox would have gotten off the ground again without ‘em, but we can manage on our own now. If they can handle Ironwood, Jacques’s all but dug his own grave.”

“I know  _ I _ wouldn’t mind if that was in a literal sense.”

Eudico chuckles darkly. “Listen. I’d pay top money to crap in his coffin. But I’d pay double  _ that _ if he was still alive through that and the burial.”

“You’re not the only one, Eudi. Not at all.” Ticker hesitates, briefly, then leans in a bit and says, “Hey, if you’re not too busy tomorrow—”

The doorbell rings. Both women look at each other. Eudico checks her watch.

“Biz isn’t supposed to be here for another hour?” It comes out as more of a question than a statement, but it’s still a fact. “I’ll get it.”

Behind her, Ticker sets her own mug down on the table, grips it tightly, and  _ sighs. _

Eudico opens the door to a dark-haired woman wearing an eyepatch. A cape is draped over one of her arms, obscuring it completely from view, but she doesn’t quite look like a huntress.

Which could be trouble.

“Um… good morning? Wait, is it—no, it’s morning still. Sorry, bit frazzled.” Eudico offers the newcomer a slightly sheepish grin. “What can I do for you?”

As tempted as she is to ask what in the Void happened to her eye, now is  _ definitely _ not a good time. Not that there’s ever really a good time, Eudico knows that damn well. There’s a reason her own prosthetic isn’t common knowledge.

“You’re Eudico Bruin? SDC floor boss in the western mines?” She barely waits for Eudico’s nod before speeding forward. “I’m Ashe Autumn, reporter for the  _ Atlas Enquirer, _ do you mind if I ask you a few questions about the Grimm attack yesterday? On the record?”

“I… guess I’m not doing anything else?” Eudico shrugs. “Can we do this inside? Cold as the Void out here.”

“Can’t say I’m fond of the cold myself.” Ashe nods approvingly.

So, Eudico leads the actually rather attractive reporter into her apartment, only to remember that Ticker’s still sitting at the table. Ticker, who doesn’t really have an excuse to be here.

“Uh,” Ticker says helpfully, “hi?”

Ashe raises an eyebrow. “I thought you lived alone?”

“I do. That’s, um—” Suddenly panicking, Eudico blurts out the first thing she can think of that doesn't involve Vox. "That's Ticker, my girlfriend."

Ticker chokes on her coffee. But she does manage a nod.

"Congratulations," Ashe says like she really couldn't care less. "However, I would prefer this conversation to remain private, if you don't mind?"

"Not at all." Eudico suspects she doesn't have much of a choice. “Ticker, um…”

“I’ll wait outside. Take a walk.” Ticker gets up with her coffee and a wave as she heads out the door. She yells back in, “Holler if you need me!”

For some reason, Eudico finds herself smiling after her. She quickly returns her face to a neutral expression, looks Ashe in the eyes… well,  _ eye, _ and takes her seat. “So… the attack. At least you’re  _ calling _ it that. It was no accident.”

Ashe audibly snorts. “Please. That’s like calling what happened to my  _ eye _ an accident. I don’t blame you for staring. Everyone does.”

“Doesn’t mean  _ I _ should.” Eudico taps her metal foot on the floor meaningfully. “If you don’t mind me asking…”

“What happened? Let’s just say, investigating the strange occurrences of this world is dangerous business. But  _ I _ don’t let  _ anything _ get in my way.”

“I can respect that.” Eudico smiles. The gesture isn’t returned. “You… can sit down. If you want. Coffee?”

“No thanks.” Ashe pulls out the chair with her visible arm and sits down in it, still not using her other arm. “For the record—reports state that many of the Grimm were vaporized by a girl in red with silver eyes. Did you witness this?”

“Well, yes, hard  _ not _ to.”

“Do you have any idea as to the identity of this young woman?”

_ She’s been sleeping in my living room for the past few weeks, _ Eudico doesn’t say, partially because Red’s a  _ kid _ and it’s not her information to give away, and partially because something isn’t right here and she can’t quite tell what. She pretends to think, takes a long sip of her coffee as she does.

The  _ Atlas Enquirer _ sounds credible enough, and she’s not about to take up her scroll and search them up in the middle of an interview with one of their reporters. Ashe seems nice enough, if a little quick to get to asking questions about Red.

“Might be one of my workers,” Eudico says at last. “Think her name was Ruby? She quit after the attack. Not the only one, either, and I can’t blame them.”

“Ruby,” Ashe repeats. “Any idea of a last name? Where I can contact her for followup? Something like this, being able to vaporize Grimm simply because you were lucky enough to be born with silver eyes? It could change  _ everything.” _

“Silver eyes do seem to be a fairly rare trait,” Eudico says without thinking. Then it hits her.

Not one of the news articles, not  _ one, _ had mentioned Red’s eye color. They couldn’t have. Most of the time, it’s too dark in the mines to figure out eye color easily, and when she was  _ using _ her eyes, the light that came out wasn’t silver at all. It was white.

_ How does she know? _

“Ms. Bruin?”

“Just trying to think,” Eudico says truthfully. She  _ is _ trying to think, just not about what Ashe would necessarily want her to. 

_ How _ does Ashe know her eye color? As far as Eudico’s seen so far, nobody is even speculating that eye color has anything to do with the light. 

Her gaze travels to the cloak draped over Ashe’s left arm. “Is your arm okay?”

“It was horribly mangled in the same ‘accident’ that cost me my eye.” Ashe makes air quotes with her free hand around  _ accident. _ “I can use it well enough, but it tends to put people off. Most of the time I just keep it hidden.”

Another thing Eudico can relate to, but that doesn’t change the fact that Ashe knows too much about Red. It can’t be a coincidence that she turned up right after Red got, if indirectly, in the news. Although it wouldn’t be a coincidence regardless, since Ashe presumably  _ is _ the news.

“That must’ve been some accident. An eye and an arm…”

Wait. That sounds familiar, and not a  _ good _ familiar. An eye and an arm…  _ Cinder. _

Oh no. She wanted revenge, didn’t she? Somehow, Red took an eye and an arm off her, and it fits with her being so interested. And how she’d know about the silver eyes.

Maybe that was how she did it? With her eyes? Maybe Eudico should count herself lucky that Red  _ only _ vaporized the Grimm.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Ashe—Cinder?—says curtly. “If you don’t know anything about where I can find her, do you know anyone who does?”

“I might.” Eudico pretends to think. Hopefully whatever magic powers Cinder has don’t extend to telling when people’s hearts start to race. “Quartermaster. Theo Bishop. He knows everyone, and I mean  _ everyone, _ far better than I do. If anyone knows where she’s staying, it’d be Bishop.”

Finally, Cinder smiles, but there’s no mirth in it. She stands. “I’ll check with him next. Where would I find him?”

“Probably where  _ he _ lives. All mine operations are suspended for the moment. I’ll drop him a text, let him know to expect you.”

Cinder has barely left before Eudico takes out her scroll and starts typing away. At some point, Ticker comes back in and peers over her shoulder.

“‘One of Salem’s agents is looking for Red, pretending to be a reporter, you can deal with her better than I can, please be careful I think she’s the Fall Maiden,’” Ticker reads aloud. “I have no idea what any of that means but that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not.” Eudico hits send and looks to Ticker. “The kids didn’t tell you about Salem?”

Ticker shrugs helplessly. “Guess not. I mean, Sparky guessed that was what Sal was short for? Don’t think that counts though.”

“No, it doesn’t. We might be here for a while.” And Eudico doesn’t even know the half of it.

* * *

“Your  _ godmother? _ Really?” An exasperated sigh comes through the scroll connection. 

“Sorry! It was the first thing that came to mind. Or, second, really. I almost just said mother!” Ruby cringes at the memory. She’s found herself a quiet spot – in the kitchens, abandoned at this time of day, where no one will overhear her committing what might be treason. 

There is a brief noise from the other end, like Salem started to say something and then stopped herself before even the first word came out. “I’m glad you came up with a somewhat more believable story, then,” she says finally. 

Ruby scowls across the room at the empty tables and the cabinets on the far wall. This is not the time to start thinking about her mother. Definitely not. If she does, she’ll end up crying, yelling into the scroll, or maybe both, and that’s not the sort of thing that’s easy to hide. 

“Yeah,” she says flatly. “I just invented a whole new person right in front of the General, and now I have to hope nobody ever asks about her.”

“You know,” Salem says, “I don’t mind if you claim we’re somehow related – though I can tell you right now, we’re not, I don’t  _ have  _ any living descendants. But don’t you dare call me a  _ god _ -anything. That’s just insulting.”

Ruby stares at nothing across the room, unsure quite how to respond to that.

“You need to learn how to lie better, Ruby. It’s an important skill, no matter what side of an issue you find yourself on.” 

“What? No!”

“See, that was better already. You  _ do _ need to become more skilled at lying, but that was almost believable when you said you didn’t.” Salem doesn’t quite contain her laughter. “I get that you’re a very trusting person by nature, but you can’t be like that when talking to the enemy. Ozpin is a master at it, but he doesn’t share his skills. Let me be your mentor instead.”

Ruby tries to deny it again. “I don’t need that kind of help.”

But the sinking feeling in her gut turns out to be right. “Remember what you saw of me in the lamp,” Salem says. “I don’t take no for an answer. Now, what’s your godmother’s name? What does she do? Where does she live, that’s recognizable as Mantle but not someplace people would ask to visit?”

Ruby sighs, and finally just tries to change the subject. “Fine, I guess I can start thinking about details later. But that can’t be why you called me the first time. What is it?”

“Let’s not put off your studies  _ too _ long. But I was just checking in, really. How’s Nora doing? Healing on her own?”

“Much better, now that we have Jaune’s help. She hasn’t even seen the military’s doctors yet and she’s confident she’ll be back to normal in a few days.”

“I see.” Salem doesn’t mention the deal they almost had. “I spoke to Hazel and he has a message to pass on. He says Nora and her boyfriend fought admirably at Haven and showed great bravery, and he suggests hot ginger tea during the healing process.”

“Oh, uh… I’ll tell her that, next time I see her. And also, speaking of lamp stuff…” Ruby hesitates. “Are you sure about that no descendants thing you mentioned? Didn’t you have four daughters?”

Salem sighs, and takes a moment before answering. “Right… you saw that too. I did… and all of them were killed when Ozma betrayed me. The oldest was only twelve.” She pauses again, and a faint, unidentifiable crackling sound comes through the scroll for a moment. “At least part of them lives on in the Maidens, but… I don’t suppose you’d know if the Relic of Creation can resurrect the dead?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby answers. “I don’t know anything about it. I was hoping Ironwood or maybe Oscar could tell me.”

“All  _ I _ know is that it’s a gold and blue staff, and that despite its supposed purpose of creation, it can also be used as an effective weapon. I haven’t dared let myself hope for resurrection, because that power existing outside my reach would be more painful than it not being possible at all.”

“…Oh. Yeah.” Ruby looks down at her feet, dangling off the side of the countertop. “There’s people I’d want to bring back too, and… yeah, better not to get our hopes up. Pyrrha, my mother… your daughters… we got so little time to spend with them. It’s not fair.”

“How could the gods let this happen?”

“What?” Ruby suddenly looks up again, confused. “Oh. Didn’t mean to sound like you there.”

“It’s true, though. If such an authority existed in your time, wouldn’t  _ you _ petition them to make things right? If they heard your case and chose to perpetuate that unfairness, wouldn’t  _ you _ rage against them with all your strength?” 

The strange crackling noise from the other end of the line comes again, a little louder. “I never knew Pyrrha Nikos, never heard much about her. She wasn’t part of Cinder’s plans until very late. But I  _ can _ say that your mother would be proud of you, Ruby.”

“You knew her?” Ruby’s eyes tingle, but not with the rush of heat that heralds a light ready to be released. It’s just a wetness in the corners, and she blinks hard and tries to force it down. 

“A real thorn in my side. You’re following in her footsteps well.”

And there come the tears. There’s no avoiding them any longer. 

“You know, I never got  _ proof _ of your mother’s death. The agent assigned to her never came back. I can only assume they both did each other in, but… well, as you said, better not to get your hopes up. You lost Summer, I lost Lutea, and all we can do is move forward.”

“I suppose so. I’ll see if I can get anything out of Ironwood about–” Ruby looks up suddenly as the sound of a closing door echoes through the previously empty kitchen. “Oh, hi Maria! What are you doing in here?”

“I was sent to find you,” Maria says. “You young people, always on your scrolls. It’s almost six. Not sure why miss taller-Schnee there asked  _ me _ to come get you, just the convenient person I suppose.” She taps her cane on the tile floor and waves for Ruby to come with her. “Come on, I’m sure that can wait.”

“Uh, looks like I’ve got to go,” Ruby says into the scroll. “Just one last thing though… what  _ is _ that weird noise I’ve been hearing?”

“Oh, that? It’s my pet… cat.”

Ruby hops down from the counter she’s been sitting on and takes a couple steps toward Maria, then stops. “That doesn’t sound like any cat I’ve ever heard of.”

“Okay, no, it’s not, it’s a Grimm. It comes over when I have negative emotions. The Grimm gets fed, and I get a friendly huggable thing exactly when I need one. It’s a win-win.”

“Huh. I guess that works out pretty well.” Ruby shrugs. “Got to go get ready for this awful dinner party. Talk to you later, I guess.”

She hangs up, and joins Maria at her side. “Sorry about that. It got later than I thought.”

Maria waves a hand dismissively. “Hey, what do I care, I wasn’t invited to this thing. You want my advice, just grab a tray of appetizers and hide in a storage room.” 

“Might have to.” Ruby laughs nervously. “I’ve heard so much about Weiss’s dad, and then being in one of his mines these past few weeks…”

“I heard about what you did down there.” Maria nods approvingly. “Figured out how to do it on command?”

“Closer. Figured out how to do it on small things, anyway. And how to make it happen even when there’s background noise. Still got a lot of work ahead, though. I’ll need your help.”

“Glad to know I’m still good for something!” 

Ruby stops short in the hallway. “Wait. You should know… There’s another silver-eyed person here. In Mantle.”

“Oh?” Maria halfway turns around, but then waves Ruby forward again. “Sounds important. Why do I get the impression you haven’t told anyone else about this yet?”

“She… doesn’t exactly like the military much. Don’t tell any of them, but… it’s one of the Happy Huntresses. She’s going to need training too, even more than me. You might want to go find her, since you’re not coming with the rest of us anyway.”

“Hmm.” Maria nods again. “Happy Huntresses seem to be pretty into preserving life already. I could see them putting silver eyes to use. Got a bad feeling about tonight anyway, can’t tell if it’s preflexes, huntress experience, or just my old bones saying a storm is coming. Might as well check them out before the Grimm roll in.”

* * *

The hideout door swings shut behind him as Watts drops himself into the reclining chair by the window. He sighs heavily, and turns the object he brought back over in his hands. 

At the sound of the door Salem appears out of another room. Apparently  _ whatever _ it is she does with the seer in there can wait. “What’s that?” she asks. 

Watts holds up a long metal arm. “It turns out I had quite a few unread messages in my scroll when I woke up, so I’ve been dealing with them. One from Jacques, one telemarketer whose scroll was  _ so _ easy to remotely disable… and several distress calls from an old acquaintance. Placed from the electronics in this very arm.” 

He runs his ringed fingers down the arm’s length and its metal fingers curl inward on their own. “Do you remember Ballas? The man trying to found a kingdom north of Mistral?”

Salem nods. “I know the one. A loathsome slug of a man, best kept at arm’s length. Ideally an arm as long as that one.”

“Well, it would appear that he’s dead.”

“Hmm.” Salem pulls up a chair and takes a seat. “Were you trying to recruit him to help us here in Atlas?”

“I’d considered it, but he seemed… preoccupied.”

“As usual. I’ve tried to recruit him to our cause before. It’s not often someone comes along with a semblance that lets them be effectively undying, so of course I took notice. Ballas was one of only two current pseudo-immortals I knew about, besides old Oz, of course. But if he’s met his end…”

Watts nods, and pulls up a photo on his scroll. “I tracked his distress call and found his body dumped in an alley, along with his sword broken in half.” He flips the scroll around and hands it to Salem. “He’d been acting strange lately, like he’d lost much of his memory, but the sword proves it’s him. But I suppose, if there was no chance of gaining an ally, I suppose it’s good he’s off the streets?”

“So that’s what he looked like these days…” Salem examines the scroll, then gives it back. “And yes, very good. He did know about me, at one point, though I suspect he thought he’d outlived me decades ago. I patched up one of his bodies near the end of the Great War. Gave him two Grimm legs.” She waves a hand toward where Watts has his feet propped up, with one normal foot and shoe, and on the other side an inky black claw. 

“He liked it even less than you,” Salem continues. “Kept moaning about his beauty, his grace, his humanity… Apparently I stole his perfect death, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Only suffering under my eye…” Salem shakes her head. “So ungrateful. The man took down a Maiden nearly singlehanded during the Battle of Vacuo. I wanted him on my side. But no…” 

Watts rolls his eyes. “He did always seem to have a problem with seeing a woman in charge. But maybe he can still be useful  _ now.” _ Watts holds the metal arm tight with one hand and gives it a twist, and a panel slides out from above the elbow. “I can salvage some of this to build myself a new leg  _ much _ faster than I could from scratch.”

“Then you should work on that tonight, and your own Grimm leg can be temporary. Don’t leave the building. It’s going to be messy out there.” Salem extends a hand back toward the other room and beckons with one finger. 

The soft but disturbing sound of an approaching seer comes from the doorway, and moments later the jellyfish Grimm floats just by Salem’s hand. She touches it briefly, then waves her hand to send it over near Watts. “Look in here. What do you see?”

“Is… is that Atlas, from a distance? And Mantle? Why are they both red?”

“This is a view through a teryx’s eyes. It’s on its way here. You’re seeing the negativity of the election, and the attacks on Robyn Hill and the mines. And, if we make it look backward…” Salem stands, and steps over closer so she can place a hand on the seer again. Her eyes flare redder than usual for a moment, and the scene within the orb changes. 

“There’s a whole flock of them,” Watts breathes. “An excellent start. Now if I can make the riots just a little bit stronger…” He brings out his scroll and opens it. 

Salem narrows her eyes. “What’s your plan?”

“Now that I sit on the Council – electronically, of course – I was going to turn off the heat. Let it snow in Mantle, and as their houses grow cold people will take to the streets in protest. We finish turning Mantle and Atlas against each other, and then it should be a simple matter to steal Winter and the Relic.”

“No.” Salem raises a hand, and Watts immediately slides his scroll shut again. “The city is unhappy enough already. There will be a Grimm invasion no matter what. We don’t need it to be an overwhelming one. Remember… the plan this time is stealth.”

Salem returns to her seat and the seer follows, and floats over to settle down in her lap. She gently caresses the hard sphere and its murky interior pulses brighter yellow as a single tentacle raises to lazily wrap around her forearm. 

“If we move  _ with _ the Grimm, Ironwood will be expecting us. You’ve reported yourself that he has a large team of allies and a candidate for the next Winter Maiden. But if we let this invasion be defeated, it will put them off their guard when the real operation comes. Some of those allies may even be injured. Besides… I need a little more time to work on my other project.”

Watts snorts. “Turning Ozpin’s children away from him? Not that I question your judgement, Your Grace, but… if they’re so important to him, it would be much easier to simply kill them.”

“Silver-eyed warriors are Ozpin’s ultimate weapon. I’ve destroyed them in the past. But to steal one and put her to use opposing him… The blow to morale alone would set him back for decades. Particularly since Ruby knows about her abilities and can apparently use them when called upon.”

“Yes, I saw.” Watts rolls his eyes. “The news media is having a field day coming up with theories to explain what she did. Is there any wrong notion in particular you’d like me to promote?”

Salem shrugs. “Whatever seems the most harmless. It doesn’t matter.” The seer in her lap crackles contentedly and three of its tentacles curl up on themselves and then reextend. “And while you’re at it, use those administrator credentials to write in a few more backdoors to the system. Slip it into the next major security update, maybe. They only come every few years and I trust you can code well enough to evade lesser patches.”

“Of course. I’ll route everything to your scroll when it’s finished. When the next update goes live, you should be able to roll back into Atlas and declare yourself its queen, and not a single robot or airship can tell you otherwise.”

* * *

There are a few reasons why so many Grimm attacks occur at night. One of these reasons is that the creatures of Grimm are typically dark-colored, with the exception of bone-white and the dull red glow of their eyes. They therefore blend in more in the darkness of night than in the blue skies of day, or the burnt oranges and deep purples of twilight.

Another reason for this phenomenon is that people tend to be more afraid at night. It is only natural to fear that which you do not know, after all, and when a large portion of the population cannot see in the dark, it is significantly more difficult to know what might be out there. It is for this reason that, if those in charge of the kingdoms were smarter, they would utilize the ability of their faunus citizens to see in the dark to their benefit.

Some kingdoms do, of course. But some are too blinded by prejudice to recognize what would genuinely be a better decision, and some have so much faith in their technology that they see no need for a non-automated warning system at all.

This is why, as General Ironwood and those accompanying him exit their vehicles in front of the Schnee Manor, not one of them sees the high-flying swarm of teryces headed straight for Mantle.


	22. Part 2 Episode 8: Murder Foul and Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eudico would really rather not be spending her night dealing with a Grimm attack, but unfortunately tonight had other plans. Across the city of Mantle, others are fighting off the Grimm as best they can, including the Happy Huntresses. The chaos of a Grimm invasion, of course, is perfect cover for Ozpin to sneak out of Pietro's workshop. Meanwhile, Jacques Schnee is soon be brought down, once and for all--one way or another.

This is  _ not _ how Eudico wanted her night to go. As a floor boss for the SDC, meeting ‘Ashe Autumn’ certainly wasn’t her first time dealing with reporters. They’d always wanted to know  _ her _ opinion on the whole Vox situation, which was always mildly amusing considering who’s really behind the persona, and spouting the usual company drivel over and over got tiring.  _ Really _ tiring.

Cinder may not have been an actual reporter, but she certainly wasn’t any less exhausting to deal with than a real one. So after that, Eudico would have been  _ more _ than happy to sit around and do nothing for the rest of the day. After she finished explaining the whole Salem situation to Ticker, at least—who was disappointed that her newfound cousin was a serial killer working for the woman behind the Fall of Beacon, but not entirely surprised.

Traditionally, the Void has signified emptiness, but in more recent years the popular portrayal of it has shifted more into a being of fate, anywhere and everywhere, and with a sincerely twisted sense of humor. Eudico’s always seen it in a more traditional sense herself, but if she had to personify it like some do, she’d wholeheartedly agree with the popular view of its sense of humor.

She could have been with Ticker, taking a much needed break from all this shit in the comfort of her own apartment. But  _ no, _ she’s on the streets doing the best she can against more Grimm than she can remember seeing in Mantle before, ever.

Admittedly, she’s still  _ with _ Ticker since she insisted on learning how to fight Grimm, which would be  _ great _ in any situation but this one!

“You doing okay over there?” Eudico calls.

In the doorway of Eudico’s apartment building, Ticker holds a gun that looks suspiciously like one Zuud left behind, and nods. “Doing fine, love!”

Eudico does her best to ignore the little skip her heart does at being called  _ love, _ because please, Ticker calls everyone things like that, it’s nothing special. But that doesn’t stop her from wishing it was.

She whacks a couple of fratterkies with the barrel of her gun and ducks to let Ticker shoot the third. She  _ hates _ fratterkies, but then again, who doesn’t?

Maybe Salem?

Somehow, Eudico doubts she’d particularly like fratterkies even if she could control them and other Grimm, so maybe not even Salem. Eudico certainly isn’t going to be in any position to ask anytime soon. Hopefully. If she is, she’ll have much bigger problems than asking if the master of the Grimm hates fratterkies.

Her scroll buzzes in her pocket. That’s the last of the fratterkies in the immediate area, so Eudico pulls it out. A quick glance at the caller ID tells her all she needs to know.

She accepts the call, jogging back to where Ticker is as she does. “Biz. How’s the situation?”

_ “For someone claiming to be a reporter, Cinder can certainly talk about herself far more than one might expect.” _ Biz’s sigh can be heard through the connection.  _ “She finally left a few minutes before the first sirens went off, under the impression that Miss Rose and her friends had spent their entire time in the mines staying in the on-site employee quarters.” _

Eudico makes a face at the thought of  _ those. _ There’s a reason she hadn’t let the kids near them and that reason is that they would have frozen to death by the second night. “She have any idea where they went?”

Biz sounds more than a little self-satisfied when he says,  _ “No more than she did before. I told her that they’d quit and cleaned out their quarters on the same day. Hadn’t seen them since. I don’t suppose you’d need a hand over there?” _

“A hand, no, but I could use some help,” Eudico says without thinking. Then it clicks just what she said, and she  _ groans. _ “I never said that. See you soon.”

Vox might have been formed to fight humans, not Grimm—but really, Vox was founded to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, primarily the downtrodden workers in the SDC mines. Eudico would know, after all.

Perhaps she shouldn’t be so surprised when, twenty minutes later, LD shows up at the same time Biz does. She’s more surprised by the nod of acknowledgment they give each other before getting down to business.

But things are changing, mostly for the better. Eudico should know that better than anyone.

* * *

Otto Olive, local taxi driver and hobbyist tinfoil collector, had been having a great night on the job. Lots of people who’d been arrested for rioting on the night of the election were just now getting released from their holding cells, and they of course needed a ride home.

That was, of course,  _ before _ the Grimm attacked. He’s still having a great night on the job, of course—it’s just a significantly more  _ stressful _ night on the job what with the teryces screaming away overhead. But he’s fine, this is fine.

Grimm are attracted to negative emotions. As long as he ignores them entirely, he’ll  _ continue _ to be fine. His shift ends when his car starts getting directly chased by them, and not a moment sooner.

There’s someone on the other side of the road, hand raised as if to hail a cab. A pale-skinned woman with white hair. Well, he isn’t out driving in a Grimm attack for shits and giggles.

(This is fine, this is fine, this is fine.)

Otto pulls up to the curb and reaches across to open the passenger-side door. Then he rolls down his window and yells out, “Over here!”

Except the words die in his throat as a griffon swoops down for her. He winces and looks away, not wanting to see what happens next… but it never comes. 

The woman reaches out a hand for the griffon’s beak and  _ pets it. _ Then, as Otto looks back in a mix of shock and horror, it  _ kneels _ . For her. To ride it.

What the  _ fuck? _

Otto doesn’t bother trying to pinch himself. He doesn’t want to find out if this  _ isn’t _ some messed up dream, because it  _ has _ to be a nightmare. There’s no way something like  _ that _ is real. 

One thing’s for sure: his shift is  _ over, _ he is going  _ home _ and then he is going to drink until he forgets he ever saw that. There are some things in this world that are not meant to be seen by mortal eyes, and that was clearly one of them.

* * *

The Grimm are all over the city. Every warning and alert system concurs. Even the long-range proximity alarms are beginning to ping – all except those in the northwest, which have never worked properly since they were installed. 

Where is Pietro Polendina? Not in his pharmacy workshop in Mantle. Probably in Atlas, in his primary workshop near the Academy. Will he come down below tonight? Not likely. He builds weapons, but he doesn’t use them. 

Ozpin sits up on the table. No one will notice if he’s up and about, not tonight. Just like they haven’t noticed any of the other times. 

This new electronic body did take some time to get used to, longer than usual. But it is convenient: an integrated scroll connection to pipe the CCT directly into his brain is more than worth a weakness to magnetism. 

It’s a little strange to be wearing the form of a girl he watched die – or a girl at all – but Pietro gave it enough modifications for his liking. The white hair of his Beacon headmaster body, a slimmed down chest, a few extra inches of height… and of course, solid metal beneath a thin layer of false skin. Not that his aura ever breaks unless he lets it, but still. It could come in handy, and it  _ certainly _ makes it easier to add new features through self-surgery. 

Time to see if one of those features works. Ozpin hops down from the workbench and looks around. There’s the duplicate cane Pietro was working on. Simple, unfinished, not a perfect copy of the original… but functional enough for now. 

One last check on the network. Pietro’s credentials can’t get him everything, but enough. Several messages from Penny still wait, unanswered, and they’ll sit a while longer. Penny herself is apparently at the Schnee estate right now, accompanying the General. Mantle doesn’t know that. If they see a speck of green in the air, there will be only one, and they won’t question why its color is darker than usual. 

Ozpin steps outside. The street is lit with red, signifying an imminent Grimm presence. Pairs of Atlesian Knight robots patrol at each corner – only minimally effective, but better than nothing. They won’t be getting any help from him tonight. 

Though all of Mantle is said to rest in Atlas’s shadow, right now he needs to be somewhere where that’s a bit more literal. Ozpin sends a thought to the new systems he built for himself over recent weeks, during every spare moment when he was left alone with Pietro’s tools. The new Penny has them. Why shouldn’t he? 

The dark green stripes down his legs light up, all the way to the gear emblems at his heels. He raises himself up on his toes and the backs of his feet flip open to reveal jet nozzles. They spark and sputter, but finally catch. 

And with a trail of green pointing straight up at the underside of Atlas, Ozpin rockets up into the air. 

* * *

Jacques has  _ no idea _ what’s coming for him, and that? That makes what’s about to happen here  _ so _ much better. It’s been coming for a long,  _ long _ time. Sleet and Camilla have already been briefed on the evidence. Everyone knows the plan. Now if only everyone at the dinner table can play their parts perfectly… 

That would be why one Captain Clover Ebi is in the dining room with them, and why one Huntsman Qrow Branwen has strategically positioned himself on a balcony on the other side of the Schnee Manor in the name of patrolling the grounds.

Really, he’s just going to hang out here for a while. He’d rather not get weird looks from the other… party-goers? Banquet-goers? Soon-to-be-a-jackass’s-downfall-goers?

If all goes according to plan, and with Clover there it will, it’s going to be  _ great. _ He’d prefer to see it himself, of course, but he’s got a man on the inside.

_ “How’s it going, lucky charm,” _ he types out on his scroll. He frowns, backspaces enough times to erase the  _ lucky charm _ part, and hits send. He forgets to take out the comma. 

The answer comes a little too quickly.  _ “He has no idea.” _

_ “Good. Keep me updated. I’ve been waiting too long for this fucker to go down, and I know damn well I’m not the only one but that won’t stop me from asking.” _

_ “I’ll do my best. You do know I’m not supposed to be on my scroll?” _

Qrow audibly snorts. Of course he knows that.  _ “Hasn’t stopped you yet.” _

Probably not coincidentally, it’s then that Clover goes silent for a while. Qrow just shrugs, slips his scroll back into his pocket, and resists the urge to go fly around somewhere. Instead, he looks down, at the driveway far longer than any driveway has any business being. Three gigantic statues adorn the space between the two sides of the driveway, the middle one twice the size of the other two.

All three, however, are similar in design: the typical Schnee snowflake atop a mountain, atop a chunk of rock that isn’t all that different from Atlas itself. There’s enough similarities there that there’s no way in  _ hell _ it’s not an accident, not on Jacques’s part. He quite literally sees himself as above everyone, even above the Atlesian elite that try so hard to emulate the ridiculous standard he sets for everyone.

That ends tonight.

His scroll buzzes. “About fucking time,” Qrow mutters to himself. 

Clover’s texted back.  _ “Almost got caught, sorry. It’s going well in here so far.” _

_ “You? Almost got caught?” _

_ “Very funny. Luck isn’t foolproof, good or bad. You know that as well as I do.” _

Qrow sighs. He smiles despite himself.  _ “Guess so. What’s going on in there?” _

_ “Jacques finally got done ranting about how rude Robyn Hill was to turn down his invitation, she should be grateful she even got an invitation considering she lost, et cetera et cetera. Now he’s going after the General, or more accurately trying to.” _

_ “I can imagine how well that’s going.” _

_ “Camilla is coming after both Jacques and the General, to the point where I’m not actually sure she’s faking it. She’s making some good points though. Sleet’s firmly on the General’s side, which is not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.” _

_ “Type?” _

_ “You know what I mean. Sleet’s an old friend of Jacques, but apparently video proof like we’ve got was enough to turn him. It’s going well, it might just be a while because no one here is willing to come out and say we know he’s working with Watts. Usual politics stuff.” _

_ “Ew.” _ That’s Qrow’s usual response to most stuff involving politics. 

In his experience, that’s where everything gets screwed up, when political bullshit gets involved. Oz couldn’t properly protect Beacon because of politics, although Qrow’s starting to wonder if he would have anyway. Jimmy and Oz were at each other’s throats for so long because of, wait for it,  _ politics. _ Leo having gone to Salem probably flew under the radar because of politics, and Qrow hasn’t even  _ seen _ Theo in more than a decade but whatever problems he’s dealing with are probably because of politics too.

In conclusion: fuck politics.

_ “Agreed. I’d like to get to sleep at an actual decent time tonight. Doubt that’s happening.” _

Considering Qrow’s own very,  _ very _ shitty sleep schedule, he’s really in no position to poke fun at Clover’s apparent definition of a decent bedtime. But he can’t quite stop himself from typing,  _ “If we’re done here within an hour, I’ll buy you a drink.” _

Clover’s response is almost immediate.  _ “Really? That’s some motivation right there.” _

Ah. Fuck. Well, too late to back out now, only to hope dealing with Jacques takes at least a minute longer than an hour. But in case it doesn’t…

_ “One drink. Don’t expect me to have one too, and if you want more you’re buying.” _

_ “Of course!” _

Qrow almost pockets his scroll. Clover’s going to have his hands full in there, dealing with all that  _ politics. _ But Clover isn’t the only one in that room. 

He opens a message window to Ruby.  _ “Hey, kiddo. How’s it going?” _

_ “Jacques’s been attacking Penny. Just used that video I got. The General made  _ me _ get up and present it!” _

_ “If you can handle Grimm, you can handle talking to the Council.” _ Qrow looks up at the dark sky, and the darker figures flitting across it.  _ “Speaking of which, I don’t know if you can hear sirens in there, but Mantle’s getting hit hard. Might want to try and hurry things up.” _

_ “I’ll try.”  _ A moment later another message comes through.  _ “Clover just kicked me under the table. Can’t have my scroll out. Bye!” _

And Qrow is left alone again. It pains him to see so many Grimm and not do anything about them, but he has orders to stay nearby. But, well… since when does he take orders from Jimmy? He’s not military. The only man who could ever order Qrow Branwen around is Oz, and even that’s not looking likely anymore. 

Maybe just a few Grimm. Qrow glances around for any witnesses, then leaps over the balcony guardrail and transforms. 

Without flying too far, all he can reach are a few griffons and one teryx that got separated from its flock by the airship fleet. But every dead Grimm helps, so he stays up there until he feels the  _ weird _ sensation of a notification coming in on a scroll that technically doesn’t exist at the moment. 

He swoops down and lands back on the balcony, and opens his scroll to see a message from Clover. 

_ “I believe you owe me a drink?” _ The universe, the gods, or possibly just the strange whims of Qrow’s semblance must have a skewed sense of humor, because the timestamp on it is exactly fifty-eight minutes after Qrow’s offer. Clover tops the message off with a smiley face, because of course he does.

“Fuck,” Qrow says for quite a few reasons, and types a message back.  _ “It’ll have to wait. Grimm attack on Mantle. Everything sorted in there?” _

_ “General heard about the attack and sped things up. Showed the video, Weiss arrested him, all looking good so far. We’ve got an airship waiting out front.” _

Qrow transforms again and takes the quick route over the Schnee Manor’s roof rather than braving the endless identical halls inside. Clover and the rest of the Ace Ops wait for him, but… 

“Where are the kids?”

“Staying with the Council for now, just one last thing to take care of. They’ll be down right after us. You ready?” Clover winks at him. “Got to make sure at least one bar in Mantle isn’t destroyed, now don’t we?”

* * *

It’s strange for Margulis to be on a mission with the others. Not that she’s complaining. It feels good to get out and stretch her legs a little, even if that means fighting Grimm. 

The helmet stays on, of course. Being on the streets of Mantle where there are cameras on every corner, plus the Huntresses’ bodycams and the one in the center of her mask, that’s too much augmented vision to pass up. Seeing from multiple perspectives at once is what she’s used to already anyway. 

Honestly, at this point it feels weird to see out of her own eyes. 

The Happy Huntresses are spread out around the intersection that sits in front of the Mantle wall’s massive gap, and down the three streets outward. Margulis is in the middle, of course, watching her own body in third person as she strikes down Grimm in every direction with bolts of energy. Fiona stands atop the ruined wall itself as the first line of defense, and the others each guard a way out into the city. 

_ “Another teryx coming our way,” _ Margulis sends to the group.  _ “From over the city. Ten seconds?” _

“Got it,” Robyn mutters aloud, just enough to be picked up by her camera. She finishes off the one sabyr in her area and moves closer to Margulis in the center, joined by May and Joanna as well. 

The moment the beast is visible over the nearby rooftops, its body and wings are blanketed in crossbow bolts and energy bursts, and it dissolves into smoke before even falling to the ground. 

_ “Good work. Fiona, you doing okay up there?” _

“Couple centinels outside, probably confused why they can’t burrow through asphalt. Haven’t figured out they can climb on the surface yet.”

_ “I’ll keep an eye out for cracks in the street. What about – ah, shit. Civilian approaching on foot. Robyn, your street.” _

Robyn scans the street in front of her. Of course Lis would see someone before she could – oh, there she is. A tiny old lady with a cane, and what looks like goggles or prosthetic eyes. 

“You lot!” the lady practically yells at Robyn. “You’re the Happy Huntresses, right? My name is Maria Calavera, and I’ve been told to find one of you!”

So this isn’t just some random civilian. With the way things have been going, that’s not likely to be a good thing – but would the military employ someone like this? The SDC certainly wouldn’t. 

“Who is it?” Maria questions her. “Who am I supposed to teach?”

“Teach what? We’re a little busy at the moment…” Robyn glances around, but her sector is clear of Grimm at least for the moment. 

_ “About to get busier,” _ Margulis reports telepathically.  _ “Fiona says there’s fratterkies coming. Not many though, thankfully.” _

“How to win a staring contest with a Grimm,” Maria says. “Someone here can do it. I understand you know a girl named Ruby? She told you some things? Let me get a proper look at you…” Maria steps up uncomfortably close to Robyn and stares her in the face. “Not you!” she declares, and moves on without another glance. 

Joanna is next on the strange lady’s circuit. “Not you either!” is all the assessment she gets. 

But before she can wander over to the opposite street to examine May, Fiona hops down from the broken wall, pursued by a flock of small flying Grimm, each one screeching like a rusty chainsaw. 

The other Happy Huntresses concentrate their fire on the swarm, but Robyn has another mission. “You need to get out of here!” she calls to Maria. “Go, we’ll hold them off!”

Maria does not go. Instead, she flips her cane over and hoists it like a bat, and with a single solid swing vaporizes one of the puffin-Grimm. Another strikes her from behind and teal-blue aura flares around the hit, before that one too is crushed by the skull atop her cane. 

A hail of crossbow bolts picks off many of the flying fratterkies, but the Huntresses are wary of shooting those on the ground for fear of hitting each other, so it falls to Margulis’s clubs and May with her crossbow-staff folded into a glaive to take down the rest. With wings bent backward and jaws open wider than it looks possible, the remaining Grimm charge on all fours toward their targets. 

Joanna swaps her staff into bladed form as well now that the fratterkies’ numbers are dwindling, but Robyn and Fiona keep theirs able to shoot. One Grimm bursts into smoke, and then another, and another… until one doesn’t. May’s glaive clips its tail but isn’t enough to kill it, and the screeching not-puffin bowls Fiona over and snaps at her face. 

Margulis pivots to shoot at the Grimm, but before her club can switch back to tuning-fork shape and fire, something comes flying across the street and smashes into the puffin’s side, vaporizing it in an instant. The old lady’s cane turned mace, with its owner grinning smugly from the opposite sidewalk. 

Fiona stands again and thanks the newcomer as Lis gives a mental all-clear. She walks over intending to pick up the cane, but Maria merely flicks a switch on the side of her goggles. The blue circles over her eyes switch to purple, and the cane quivers and flies back into her hand. 

Maria dusts herself off. “Well, that was fun! Been a while since I had a proper fight. The kids never left any for me when we were traveling together.” 

“Were you a huntress?” Robyn asks. 

“Best of my decade!” Maria announces proudly. “I may be old, but I could pass the exams again today if I had to.” She walks around to examine May and Fiona. “Not looking for you. Or you.”

She finishes her circuit face to face with Margulis. “Aha! Must be you in the mask. Good idea, that. There’s people out there who don’t much like silver eyes. Exhibit A.” She points to her own face and the prosthetics that rest there. “But you won’t be much good with metal in the way. Take that off for now.”

Margulis’s mouth hangs open in shock.  _ “You _ have silver eyes too?”

“Haven’t for forty years, but I still know how they work! You ever used yours before?”

“Once.”

“Protecting someone?”

“Robyn.” Margulis throws an arm around her girlfriend. 

“That’s the key,” Maria tells her. “When you face down a Grimm, you can’t be  _ thinking _ about the Grimm. Don’t think about the monsters in front of you, but the people behind you. Focus on all the people you’re protecting, the ones who depend on you, who  _ trust _ you to keep them safe.  _ That’s _ what powers your light. Protection. Preservation. A desire to see life continue.”

“Look, I’d love to learn all about this stuff, but this is maybe not a great time to do it?” Margulis sends out a quick mental note, and the other Happy Huntresses besides Robyn return to their positions to watch for more incoming Grimm. 

“Nonsense! This is the  _ best _ time to learn! Silver eyes don’t  _ work _ unless there’s Grimm around. And, I happened to notice on my flight down here, there’s a big pack of megoliaths headed this way, and silver eyes are about the only thing likely to stop them. So, with Ruby up in Atlas, looks like this one’s your job.”

Margulis grimaces. “No pressure…”

Maria waves dismissively. “Come on, you’ve got a whole  _ city _ to protect! This is easy mode. The hard stuff’s when you’re alone in the wilderness, facing a Grimm that might not see another person for years.”

“I… guess?” Margulis shrugs, then raises her weapons again. “Get ready. Something’s coming this way.”

“Grimm?” Robyn raises her crossbow as well. 

“Uhh… I think so? So fast it doesn’t stay on any one camera for long.” Margulis gives another helpless shrug. 

The unknown Grimm comes close enough to finally be identified as a griffon. It gallops down the center of the street, coming from somewhere deeper in the city and aiming straight at the gap in the wall, and shows no signs of slowing to engage the huntresses who are waiting for it. 

Except… it’s not  _ just _ a griffon, but that would be impossible… and yet it’s true. There’s someone on the Grimm’s back. A woman in black with long white hair flowing in the wind behind her, practically blending in with the Grimm’s own colors. 

Maria’s electronic eyes open as wide as they can go. Somehow, Margulis gets the impression it’s  _ not _ because she was suddenly overcome with gay feelings. Not like she sort of has been herself. 

But regardless, something needs to be done. This poor woman must be clinging on for dear life in the one place safe from the monster’s beak and talons. But if she doesn’t let go soon she’ll be carried out of the city to certain death. Margulis raises her twin prongs and aims low. It will be a rough landing at that speed, but a survivable one, even without aura. 

She fires two bolts, and then another pair immediately after. But they never reach their target. The woman on the griffon’s back raises a hand, and a red barrier shimmers into place in front of the galloping Grimm and absorbs the energy before flickering out. 

The griffon spreads its wings and soars over the huntresses’ heads, and continues on its straight line path out into the tundra. 

“What the hell was that?” Robyn is the first to speak up. 

“That,” Maria says, looking between Robyn, Margulis, and the equally confused huntresses beyond, “I’m pretty sure, was the closest near-death experience any of us has ever had.”

She parks herself in front of Margulis and stares into the little blue light on her mask. “Remember how I said there are people who don’t like silver eyes? Who want to wipe people like us out?” She pauses just long enough for Margulis to nod. “That was their leader. The master of the creatures of Grimm.”

“The Grimm… have a master? A human?” Robyn gives a skeptical look. 

“Her name is Salem. You’ll need to know about her too, to keep yourselves safe. But that can wait. Let’s get you using those eyes first.”

“Uhh, sorry to interrupt, but…” Margulis frowns. “That megoliath pack out there? I’ve been watching it from the Atlas perimeter cameras ever since you told us they were coming. Don’t worry about how, I quietly hacked them months ago. Don’t tell anyone. But, uh, they’re kind of… not coming this way anymore?”

“What do you mean?”

“They’ve just… turned. The leading one turned away from the gap and the rest are following. All the negativity here, and they’re just… They must be following something stronger.”

“Something like  _ her?” _ Robyn tilts her head toward the wall, and the woman in black who had leapt over it. 

Maria doesn’t answer, instead only pulling out a scroll. Margulis cycles through all the nearby cameras searching for a good view of the screen, but nothing is readable. Fine. She’ll just have to hack it the same way she did to that scruffy guy who was sabotaging Schnee property on election night. 

It’s a message to Ruby. Certainly the same one Margulis met, the silver-eyed girl in red.  _ “Just saw Salem here in Mantle,” _ Maria types.  _ “I’m sure. Came through riding a Grimm.” _

_ “I know,” _ comes the response.  _ “Don’t tell the General.” _

* * *

This place  _ really _ needs better security. All Ozpin had to do was walk with an air of officiality and flash a license that doesn’t even have the proper clearance, and he was let loose in the M3 tower without supervision. 

It probably helped that all the staff are panicking, hurrying to the side of the tower closer to Atlas’s downward spike. This place is the safest from Grimm of anywhere in the kingdom, but they still come. 

The top floor hallway is empty save for a single guard posted at the Winter Maiden’s door. A single unlucky soldier, commanded not to leave his post no matter what happens outside. One man, armed with a woefully insufficient military rifle. 

“This is a restricted area,” the guard calls as Ozpin approaches. “Please shelter elsewhere. Security will escort you if need be.”

Ozpin doesn’t even slow, nor does he respond except to flip his cane to an upward facing position. 

The guard raises his rifle with one arm, then pulls out a scroll to call for backup. It doesn’t help. 

A bolt of dark green flies from the end of Ozpin’s cane and blasts the scroll out of the man’s hand, where it cracks against the wall behind him and falls to the floor. It doesn’t matter that the cane’s firing mechanism hasn’t been installed yet. Any stick or even just a finger can be a conduit for magic. 

Helpless and on his own, the guard starts firing. A green sphere shimmers around Ozpin’s body, and every energy bolt fizzles out on it without effect. And still the intruder does not slow. 

Ozpin steps in close and thrusts his free hand forward, past the guard’s arms and gun, to place his palm flat on the man’s forehead. Green light flares again, and the man slumps to the floor. Ozpin follows him as he falls, and before removing his hand from the guard’s head, he commands,  _ “You saw nothing.” _

There’s no time to be subtle. Not when magic can cover his tracks just as well. 

The lock is defeated just as easily as the guard, and Ozpin finally slips inside. It’s a reasonably normal looking hospital room, if a large one, and personalized with framed photos of Fria’s family beside her bed. 

The Maiden herself sits up as Ozpin enters. “You’re not the girl who usually visits me…”

“She couldn’t make it today. How are you feeling, Fria?”

“I’m fine…” Fria looks toward the windowless wall that faces outward from Atlas, where faint sirens can be heard even here. “Is something happening outside?”

“Nothing serious,” Ozpin lies. “The kingdom doesn’t need you yet. I’m just here to make sure the emergency system is in working order.”

He steps over to the transference machine to examine it. This is a different model from the one at Beacon – larger, newer, with more streamlined controls. But it’s the same design, with two chambers, a control terminal, and a box mounted high on the wall between the two sides. 

That box is what Ozpin needs. It’s not just a reservoir for aura, to hold the outgoing supply far away from its old body so that pumping it to the new body becomes easier. It also houses most of the electronics and equipment that make the aura transfer happen. 

Ozpin flicks on his thrusters again, just enough to hover several feet above the floor, and undoes the screws on the front cover with a quick finger tap on each one. The inside of the box is a horrible tangle of conduits and circuits, and Ozpin is careful not to accidentally disconnect anything as he brushes cables aside to examine the ones behind. 

That’s another benefit of a robotic body: everything he sees can be recorded exactly as it appears to him, to be recalled in complete detail at a later time or even sent to an external screen. As long as he sees every wire, every connection, every last part that goes into an aura pump, that knowledge will be within him forever. 

And with that knowledge, combined with the schematics in Pietro’s archives for the very first simple model of such a device, Ozpin can build his own. 

“It does work, you know.” Fria’s soft voice startles him, and Ozpin turns around in the air. 

“What do you mean? How could you know without seeing it?”

“But I have seen it. The last time my granddaughter visited…” Fria lays back and stares up at the ceiling. “How long has it been now? Must be years… She came in here with two other women. Red and yellow. I remember.”

Ozpin’s eyes narrow. Who could that have been? Does the Winter Maiden have a granddaughter in the Atlas military? He makes a mental note to check on that later, then deletes it. It doesn’t matter. 

But this might still be valuable information, while he’s here anyway. “What did they do with this machine?”

“Used it… for the only thing it does.” Fria raises one frail arm to point from the left chamber over to the right. “I… don’t remember why. Maybe they had a mission… like mine? But no one has touched that thing since they left. No one I can remember…”

Well, the machine should be in full working order, then. That saves him some testing later. Ozpin replaces the front panel over the electronics and floats over to examine the conduits’ connection to the top of one of the chambers. Not much to see there, nothing different from the blueprints he’s looked at already. The same on the other side, just installed the other way around. 

Ozpin drops back to the floor again. “Everything appears to be as it should,” he says. “Keep carrying out your mission, Fria. Protect the Maiden power. You’re doing a good job.”

“Am I… going to need it, again?” Fria casts a worried glance back toward the far wall. “I should be out there… fighting… helping. This power can help.”

“You will help more by staying safe,” Ozpin tells her as he steps to the door. “You’re holding that power for someone, remember? You need to be here when she comes.”

Fria nods. “I know… I will.”

“Good. Don’t worry, now. Everything is going to be okay.” 

Ozpin slips out the way he came. The guard is still unconscious, and still undiscovered by his fellows. He’ll awaken before too long, well before the Grimm are defeated and this hall becomes populated once again, and when he does… Well, nothing is out of place in his secure area, so why report himself for napping during an uneventful shift? 

As for Fria’s visitor, he was never there. He still has a few hours, most likely, before the Grimm sirens switch off and the public comes out of their shelters. And with time, detailed knowledge of a transference machine’s internals, and an empty chamber in his own back where Penny’s swords no longer rest… 

He has another project to work on. 

* * *

As satisfying as it was to arrest Jacques right then and there, it hadn’t quite been the note of finality Weiss hoped it would be. There were documents that needed to be obtained, documents that would put the final nail in his (sadly, not literal) coffin, and while Penny  _ could _ access them with enough time, it would be easier and might result in marginally less consequences for Jacques if he opened it all for them.

It’s almost sad, how desperate Jacques is for  _ anything _ that he took the deal. So, here Weiss is, being led through the halls of her former home by the man she’d once foolishly called father. She’s not alone, of course. Winter, Penny, General Ironwood, Councilors Sleet and Camilla, and most importantly her three girlfriends are here with her. 

Yang hasn’t taken her eyes off Jacques since Winter put him in cuffs. Blake, the complete opposite, has barely looked at him at all. Even Ruby, typically cheerful to the point of annoyance, is uncharacteristically quiet.

They might have passed the entire trip to Jacques’s office in silence, and perhaps the entire trip back as well, if someone quite unexpected hadn’t wandered in front of them from a side door, carrying a half-full bottle of wine in one hand with the cork in her other. 

“Mother,” Winter greets her, if curtly.

“Winter, you—” Her unfocused gaze sweeps the room, suddenly clueing her in to the fact that there are quite a few more people here than usual. “What… are you doing here?”

“Hi again,” Yang says with a wave. 

She still doesn’t take her eyes off Jacques, who is starting to turn that undignified shade of purple again. He may be cuffed, but that doesn’t stop him from furiously stepping forward to face Willow with an angrily hissed,  _ “You.” _

Willow looks at him. “Yes?”

_“You’re_ where they got that footage.” He jabs a finger in her face, despite having to use both cuffed hands to do it. _“You’re_ the one who betrayed me. Of course it was _you_ who would consort with filthy faunus mongrels. Everything would have gone according to plan if it hadn’t been for _you,_ _spying_ on me.”

Blake reaches for her weapon, newly repaired, but stops herself. He’s not worth the effort. Soon, he’ll get  _ exactly _ what he deserves. To rot in jail and  _ watch _ as all the people his practices have hurt lead better lives without him. 

Winter, meanwhile, has her scroll out and recording. Every word he says here only digs his own grave further. None of them have anything to fear from him, not anymore.

Perhaps Willow understands this too, or perhaps she simply doesn’t care. She says nothing in response, and the only action she takes is putting the cork back in her bottle.

That simple action is all it takes to set Jacques off all over again. “You’ve always been too weak, too ‘kind,’ unwilling to oppose me to my face and I  _ thought _ unable to do so otherwise. I should have had you killed years ago.”

“Jacques Schnee,” Winter says curtly. “Might I remind you that you are  _ already _ under arrest, and anything you say can and  _ will _ be used against you? Leave my mother alone.”

Jacques spins on his heel furiously. “You call her your mother, when  _ you _ abandoned her too.”

Willow, having begun to walk away, stops in her tracks after a few steps. She looks down at the bottle held in her arms.

“I…” Winter visibly stiffens, but does not back down. “You have no power over me anymore, Jacques. And soon, you will have no power over  _ anyone.” _

“That’s what  _ you _ think. You may know who Arthur is, but you don’t know  _ where _ he is. The Atlesian military will fall, as it should have years ago, and I will remain. Alone, this time, if my  _ third _ heir becomes untrustworthy as well.” Jacques meets Winter’s furious gaze and says, with the certainty of someone too rich to be prosecuted, “There is nothing you or  _ anyone _ can do to stop me.”

Willow’s half-full bottle of wine smashing into the back of his head proves otherwise. Jacques crumples to the floor in an instant. If his aura had been up, it might have protected him, but he’d never practiced enough to manifest a shield subconsciously. Instead, Jacques Schnee, corporate overlord and all-around horrible person, lies prone and face-down on the tiled floor. 

There’s a lot of blood. Also a lot of wine. But the wine wasn’t a red. 

Weiss is used to blood – at least more than the average person, being a huntress. But she wasn’t expecting that.  _ Nobody _ was expecting that.

Still holding the improvised weapon, or what’s left of it, Willow asks, “Is he… okay?”

Ironwood kneels beside him, careful to stay out of the blood, and checks his pulse. A few moments pass before he looks up. “He’s dead.”

Willow closes her eyes, and the bottle’s broken neck slips out of her fingers. With a shaky sigh, she opens them again and says, “Arrest me if you must.”

Ironwood stands and looks at Winter, Penny, Team RWBY… the councilors present. He considers the situation. “I am calling an emergency session of the Atlas Council,” he declares. “Beginning immediately.”

He pauses maybe a second before launching into the meeting. Everyone is already here. “I propose a motion to pardon Willow Schnee of all wrongdoing in connection to the death of Councilman Jacques Schnee. With my other seat, I second the motion. Voice vote: I say aye, and aye.”

Sleet and Camilla glance at each other. Sleet in particular looks pale, squeamish at the sight before them. 

Despite the Council session technically going on around her, Winter speaks up. “Well, I suppose we won’t be needing this recording anymore.” She holds up her scroll and makes a point of conspicuously deleting the video she took. “Wouldn’t you agree, Penny?”

Penny hesitates, before realizing Winter’s meaning. “Of course.” She closes her eyes for a second. “What’s going on here again? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten.”

Ironwood looks to Sleet first, silently asking for his approval. But as he stares, almost unblinking, it becomes increasingly clear it’s a challenge, not a request. 

Sleet, for his part, looks even paler than before and stares glassy-eyed into the middle distance. He croaks out the single word, “Abstain,” before his shaky knees give out and he too crumples to the floor. 

All eyes go to Councilwoman Camilla, and she looks back between each of them in turn. General Ironwood, uncompromising as always, and the two agents who so rarely leave his side. Four young huntresses, one of them a Schnee, closing ranks in front of the accused as if to shield her with their bodies. 

There’s really only one option. “Aye,” Camilla says. She frowns, but nods. 

Winter lets out the breath she’d been holding. On Jacques’s other side, Weiss does the same. 

“Motion passes,” Ironwood declares. “Now.  _ Somebody _ just killed Jacques Schnee, and we know one person who it wasn’t. In the absence of any conclusive video evidence, I’m afraid this mystery may never be solved. What a shame that would be. Meeting adjourned.”

Ruby looks to Weiss briefly, and gets a nod. “Really is a shame none of us saw anything. Hi, Weiss’s mom, nice to meet you, it’s too bad you didn’t see anything either!”

Willow looks around the room again. She doesn’t smile, but when she speaks again it’s with more life in the words. “Such a tragedy indeed.”

* * *

Well that was an annoying detour. Salem should have been up in Atlas twenty minutes ago, but what did she see almost as soon as her griffon mount took off? A pack of megoliaths headed for the walls. 

Megoliaths are destructive. There’s no question about that. That section of the Mantle wall may have collapsed when a huntsman atop it snared a nevermore’s talons and crashed it, but that was only the final straw. It was the megoliath charge nine years earlier that weakened the internal supports. 

And so she’d been forced to turn around and race through the city to head off the pack and lead them away. Who knows  _ how _ many people saw her riding a Grimm. That’s annoying too, but it hardly matters in any serious way. If nobody knows that someone with her abilities does or even  _ can _ exist, then it will all be written off as a strange hallucination. 

Why do megoliaths have to be so destructive? Why do Tyrian and Watts have to be so good at causing widespread chaos and unrest? Okay, part of that is on her, she didn’t exactly  _ tell _ them to tone it down until their ideas were already well underway. But still. A stealthy recovery of the Relic of Creation is looking less likely every day. 

Which is why it’s critical to get the Fall Maiden under control. If Creation stays out of reach, then Choice can be next. Again. And she does finally have a lead on Cinder, thanks to a lucky catch on one of Watts’s hacked cameras. It’s taken this long, but whatever errand sent her to Mantle this morning may have just spelled the end for her independent operations. 

Salem adjusts her griffon’s flight path to make a slow, flat descent toward the edge of Atlas. Nothing to worry about from the border guns, they’ve been overwhelmed since the attack began. One more small Grimm can slip right past, and this can’t wait until she lands. 

She slips her scroll out of a pocket and carefully types a message with one hand. “NOT TONIGHT,” she sends to Cinder. It’s an odd way of reestablishing contact after months without a word, but hopefully her rogue agent still has enough sense to listen. 

To listen, even if not to respond. Salem watches her scroll intently as she glides toward the city, but no message comes even to acknowledge her order. She can only hope Cinder won’t attack Atlas Academy or the Winter Maiden during the chaos. As satisfying as it might be to watch Cinder try something alone and fail at it, she can’t risk the interference. Better to incorporate Cinder into the plans as a powerful, if unreliable, pawn. 

Not tonight. Not even tomorrow. But probably no more than a week. 

* * *

Is it… over? 

Is Jacques really gone? He can’t be gone. Half Willow’s life he’s been there, always around the next corner, listening, waiting, a terror to be avoided. And if not avoided, endured. Any moment now he’ll come in here and find her, sprawled out on a bed with an empty glass on the table beside her, and he’ll scream and threaten and tell her how useless she is. 

But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

Because he’s dead. 

Willow has had dreams like this before. Jacques, dead, usually by her hand… only for him to rise again and come for her. Those nightmares were always the worst of all. She’d wake up already apologizing, cowering from the empty space beside her, and she’d pour herself a glass of wine before trying to sleep again. 

She pinches herself. It hurts. She looks at the clock on the wall. There are only three hands, and the time matches the digital clock on her scroll. She’s not dreaming. 

Willow fumbles with her scroll and opens her contacts list. It’s very short. What need would anyone outside her immediate family have to contact Willow directly, when Jacques is always there to control everything instead? The list hasn’t seen a new entry in years – until just a few weeks ago. 

Oops. That wasn’t the button to open a text window. The faint sound of ringing comes from her scroll and Willow raises it to her ear. Too late to go back now. 

“Hello, Willow.”

“Sienna… It’s done.”

There is a slight pause. “What’s done?”

“Jacques is dead. I… I killed him.”

“Oh. Wow. Congratulations.” Some noise comes through the connection: the scrape of a chair across the floor, followed by repeated clinks of metal against metal. “Where are you now? Do you need a getaway vehicle? Did anyone see you do it?”

“I’m okay… I think. My daughters saw. Winter and Weiss.”

“Well, they never liked him either. But Winter’s military, right? You might still need to get out of there.” 

“And Weiss’s team. They were there.” Willow sits up and swings her legs off the side of the bed. 

“I’ve met most of them. They seem decent.”

“And the Protector of Mantle.”

“Oh. What was she doing in your house? There’s a lot of Grimm out here.”

“And the entire Council.” Willow rests her face in her free hand. Her headache was manageable before, when all she was doing was lying there. But talking, thinking… it will be a few hours before that stops hurting. 

“What?!” The metal clinks come again, and then the sound of a door almost slammed shut. “You committed murder in front of  _ the entire Council? _ Where are they holding you? I’m on my way.”

Willow looks around at the bedroom, empty save for her. As empty as the wine glass she got out of the cabinet but never filled. Her head still hurts and her thoughts feel like they’re pushing through a thick layer of cotton, but shakily she stands. 

“I’m… just in my room?” she says, tentatively. “I’m fine. The Council… didn’t arrest me. The General did something and they voted and… I don’t remember, exactly. I’ve been pretty out of it.”

A low roar kicks on in the background of the call. “Wait, back up. You killed a man in front of what, nine witnesses? And they just let you go?” Sienna laughs loudly. “I  _ knew _ it had to be you to take him down! I would have had a  _ much _ harder time getting away with it.”

Sienna continues to chuckle at the thought of it. “Anyway, I’m already in an airship headed up there, so I might as well break in for a visit. Or, actually… does this mean I can just use the front door now?”

“Better not.” Willow takes her wine glass into the adjoining bathroom and fills it with water from the sink. “I think the dinner guests might still be here. The Council, anyway. Weiss said her team was going down to Mantle to fight.” She drains the glass, and fills it again before leaning back against the wall. “I’ll be on the southwest balcony.”

Willow forces down the second full glass of water, and makes her way to the door. It’s not far to the southwest corner of the manor, and the halls are empty. All the guards and servants are focused on the dinner party, if they haven’t already been sent home to avoid seeing Jacques’s condition firsthand. 

It’s a pleasant night out – like most, given Atlas’s advanced environmental controls – and the view over the edge of the city is stunning. But the sky is filled with dark winged shapes, locked in a terrible dance with the airship fleet, and the sirens from below never cease their whine. There’s nothing Willow can do but hope the brave huntsmen and huntresses who are out there can repel the Grimm. 

Weiss is among them, somewhere. Fighting alongside the team that has surely become more of a family to her than she’d ever found in this house. She and Yang, or Ruby, or whoever she ended up with… at least she’s getting the chance to live as herself. Not as some horrid man’s trophy or possession. 

A chain whips up over the side of the railing and coils around, locking itself in place. Moments later, Sienna Khan climbs up and flips over the guardrail, landing neatly beside Willow. She hadn’t even seen her approach over the grounds. 

“Hello again,” Sienna greets her. “Are you feeling alright? First murder’s always the hardest, no matter how much they deserve it.”

“I’ve been better.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Willow starts to reconsider. “Or… have I? I don’t know.”

“Just give it time, it’s only upward from here. Might just take a little while to sink in, that he’s really not coming back.” Sienna shrugs. “Not sure it’s really hit  _ me _ yet, to be honest. I’ve been wishing Jacques would drop dead for  _ years.” _

She puts an arm around Willow’s waist and guides her over to the hanging bench at one end of the balcony, overlooking the grounds. “It’s not uncommon for people escaping abuse to feel worse before they get better,” she continues. “You’ve just lost what you’re used to, and change is hard… but at least in this case, you can’t go back to the old way. You’re free forever, and for whatever that brings.”

“And what will that be?” Willow looks over at the woman beside her. What is this strange twinge in her gut? Why is she suddenly having to resist the urge to put a hand over Sienna’s, and lean in far closer than she should?

“That’s up to you,” Sienna says. “I’m having the same issue, sort of. I’ve died three times in the past couple months and still haven’t quite got a proper life going again. I came to Atlas with a mission, but then the Happy Huntresses carried it out before I could, so now what do I do?”

“Do you think…” Willow shuffles a little closer. “Maybe we could help each other?” 

Sienna meets her gaze. “How  _ did _ you manage to kill Jacques?”

Willow cocks her head. “Wine bottle to the head. Why?”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Mentally, how did you get yourself to do it?”

“Um, he threatened me, I walked away… he threatened Winter. I couldn’t let him do that, but also…” Willow’s cheeks flush with pink. “I… I was thinking about you. What you said to me the last time we met. What you did – what  _ we _ did…”

“All I did was tell you it’s okay to be yourself, that once you’re free of him you  _ can _ live another way. The rest was all you. Your strength. Your hope for a better future. Your commitment to step into the unknown and make it your own. I’m proud of you, Willow. You’ve saved not only yourself, but countless faunus who are no longer his slaves.”

Sienna reaches out to take Willow’s hand, and that small sensation alone is almost enough to overwhelm her. Willow’s eyes close and she leans against Sienna’s shoulder, and after a moment as the touch is not pulled away… she smiles. 

“You may have made more progress toward equal rights today than I ever did in all my years leading the White Fang,” Sienna continues. “Though I have to ask… with him gone, who will be in charge of the SDC now?”

“Um…” Willow’s head still buzzes, but now with a different feeling than alcohol. “He wanted Whitley to inherit everything. But Whitley won’t be eighteen for another five months… Oh, gods. Does that mean… does that mean it’s me? I don’t know how to run a company.”

“But you’ll still do a better job than Jacques ever did. Because you’ll put lives over money.”

“What kind of monster wouldn’t?” Willow snorts. “I might be able to do it. I’ll have Winter and Weiss to help me. And Whitley if he can heal from what Jacques made him into. And you? I hope? Whatever you decide to do with your new life, I hope we can still see each other.”

Sienna’s hesitation is almost imperceptible. “Of course we can,” she says. She gently nudges Willow to sit up again, then cups her face in one hand. “You don’t need the courage anymore, or a reminder of what’s possible. That better life starts now, and just for its own sake…”

She pulls Willow into a kiss. It takes a moment for Willow to respond, but she does, with an intensity she never thought possible before. Sienna leans back and Willow follows, until the two of them are nearly laying down on the gently swinging bench. 

“Look at me,” Sienna breathes as they finally pull apart. “Consorting with Schnees. What would the old White Fang think of me now? Too many of them would fail to look past the surface, and would be content to call me a traitor.”

“Just what Jacques called me before his tragic accident,” Willow responds. “And I’m proud to go against everything he ever stood for.”

She kisses Sienna again, briefly, then helps her up so they both can sit and look out over the city below. Keeping one arm around Sienna’s waist, she leans against her side and asks, “So how about we be traitors together?”


	23. Part 2 Episode 9: One Last Reprieve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the brave huntresses and huntsmen that went down to Mantle return to Atlas after the attack. As for the two that remain, they're not on a date. Definitely not. Ruby has to make a difficult choice, but is reasonably confident she made the right one... for now. The new councilwoman is sworn in, Tyrian has new orders, and Cinder is handling her issues with Salem in a perfectly healthy way with no issues whatsoever.

The first thing Ruby does, upon getting to the airship back to Atlas, is sink into one of the seats with an exhausted sigh. The second thing she does is close her eyes for what feels like just a few moments.

The third thing she does, or maybe fourth, is open them to nearly everyone on the ship and the ship itself flying back to Atlas. Weiss’s hand is holding one of hers, and Blake gives her other a squeeze as she blinks back to awareness.

“Hey, Ruby,” Weiss says. “You with us?”

Ruby yawns but manages a sleepy nod. “Yeah. Silver eyes are  _ draining. _ Even if you’re not running around doing other things too.”

“Silver eyes, huh?” Elm asks from across the airship. “Is that what all that flashing was?”

“Sure is.” Yang leans over to rest an arm on Ruby’s head. “My lil sister’s a badass. She’s the bee’s knees!”

“I distinctly remember  _ something _ about not calling me that,” Ruby mutters.

“Yeah, like two years ago! How do you even remember—”

“So what do they  _ do?” _ Marrow asks. “Besides blinding everyone in the area. Or that might just be a me thing, I don’t know.”

“Not a faunus thing,” Blake says. “A bright light like that is going to blind  _ anyone _ who’s looking directly at it.”

Marrow winces. “Yeah, okay. Not the smartest idea I’ve ever had. What did you expect me to do,  _ not _ check out the very sudden, very bright light somewhere off to my left?”

“Everyone  _ else _ managed not to,” Harriet yells back from the cockpit.

“Point made. Still!”

“Oh come on, it’s not like you were blind for  _ long. _ You survived.”

It occurs to Ruby, suddenly, that Harriet and Vine are the only ones in the cockpit. Harriet’s flying. Vine is either meditating, taking a nap, or ignoring everyone in the copilot’s seat. There’s no  _ obvious _ reason why that’s strange, until Ruby takes another look around the main cabin.

Sister? Check.

Girlfriends? Check.

Friends? No check, but that’s because JNR (and possibly Oscar) were at Amity all night in case Watts made a move there while the General and Ace Ops were occupied. They haven’t been in Mantle all night. They’ve had the easy job, supposedly – though Ruby doubts whether staying to guard Amity and restraining herself from going out to help with the Grimm would really be that easy at all. 

Ace Ops? Check—all except for one. Their leader isn’t here. And neither, for that matter, is someone else. Ruby looks around again, just in case he’s hiding in a corner somewhere, transformed into a bird and unwilling or unable to turn back here.

Nope. No tagalong crows.

“Where’s Qrow?” Ruby asks. As an afterthought, she adds, “And Clover?”

Marrow and Elm exchange amused looks.

“Where do you  _ think?” _ Elm exclaims. “About damn  _ time, _ honestly. You kids haven’t been here for long, but believe me, it’s been painful to watch.”

“Watch what?” It’s the first Yang’s hearing of anything, too.

Elm is entirely unhelpful with an even louder shout of “You honestly don’t  _ know?!” _

“Know  _ what?” _

“While you were… missing,” Vine says without opening his eyes or otherwise acknowledging that anyone is here, “our  _ oh so accomplished _ captain has been trying very hard to flirt with your uncle. This does not change  _ my _ bet, of course.”

“Vine thinks they still won’t be, you know, together after this,” Marrow says. “I’ve known Clover the longest, and  _ believe me, _ I might not agree with Vine on much but I’m with him on this.”

Weiss raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me  _ your _ friends force you into bets on pointless things too? And here I was thinking it was just these three. Not that we’re really  _ just _ friends anymore, kind of, but it’s… complicated?” That last bit is said progressively quieter and quieter until nobody outside Weiss’s immediate area can really hear it. Doesn’t stop Blake from giving her a smile.

And it doesn’t stop Harriet from saying, still without turning around, “Oh, we’re  _ not _ friends. We don’t even like each other.”

“Speak for yourself, Hare,” Marrow says teasingly, but his tail—which  _ had _ been wagging—no longer is. 

“No, she’s right,” says Elm, of all people. “We’re teammates, colleagues, coworkers. Friends? Nah. Nobody’s got time for that. Too busy keeping each other alive.”

From the front of the plane, Vine hums an assent. As Team RWBY looks at each other, dumbfounded, Harriet starts to bring the plane down.

“So… where  _ is _ Qrow?” Blake asks finally.

“He and Clover both stayed below, said not to wait.” Harriet shrugs carelessly. “Said they had their own transport back, whatever that means. I’m certainly not making another trip just to pick them up.”

* * *

“Months. It’s been  _ months! _ And  _ now _ she decides to text me?”

Neo conceals her smile with her semblance. Cinder likely wouldn’t appreciate her ranting being compared to someone after a particularly bad breakup. Even if that is  _ exactly _ what she sounds like.

She nods for Cinder to continue, leaning back against the wall with her arms behind her head and a foot tapping impatiently at the floor. 

“Not tonight. Not  _ tonight, _ she says, and that’s  _ it. _ Well, great! Peachy! Glad you decided to acknowledge my existence, except you couldn’t have waited until  _ after _ I had the Relic and we had our revenge and I was already well on my way to—well, it doesn’t matter now.” Cinder throws up her hands in frustration. “If she wants to coordinate my attack with hers, the least she could do is tell me  _ when? _ Tomorrow? Next Tuesday? Friday the Thirteenth? I’d be fine with Friday the Thirteenth if the next one wasn’t until  _ next year!” _

Neo probably shouldn’t be surprised that Cinder is one of those people who always knows when the next Friday the Thirteenth is. She probably has the next seven marked on her scroll calendar, along with Halloween and the day the Great War started.

“We were planning this for years.  _ Years, _ Neo! And after Mistral, Vacuo was going to be next! Taking down Shade would be  _ easy _ with the headmaster gone and an unruly puppet in his place, and then we’d have had three Relics to help in the fight against Atlas. Instead, they decided to come to Atlas immediately, and did anyone think to tell me that? Of course they didn’t.”

As amusing as the mental image is, reminding Cinder of the fact that  _ she _ had in fact been the one to cut off communications with the rest of Salem’s agents, and therefore  _ she _ was the reason that she wasn’t up to date on Salem’s plans, would only make her mad.

Ironic as hell, though.

“For all I know, maybe the agent at Shade was  _ perfectly _ cooperative! Maybe Salem just decided to change things on  _ him, _ too.” Cinder scowls and shakes her head. She stares down at her scroll, moves to type, then… hesitates. “What does she think she has over me now? She should have thought I’m dead!”

Neo raises a single skeptical eyebrow, and Cinder sighs an agreement. “You’re right. She should know it’s not that easy to kill me.”

_ Not _ what she meant but okay. Neo doesn’t even bother to hide her eyeroll, and Cinder still doesn’t see it. 

Of course she doesn’t. Neo’s on her blind side.

“I’m going to text her,” Cinder announces like one would say they were going to go bungee-jumping with a chronic fear of heights. She picks up her scroll this time, scowls further, but types something this time. “‘If not tonight, then when?’ No, too abrupt. ‘Hello, Salem?’ No, can’t say her name, I doubt the doctor’s security updates carried over to this scroll after the last one broke. Maybe just… ‘Hello. It’s been a while.’”

Cinder gets herself a noncommittal shrug, which really only serves to irritate her further. 

“You’re no help.” Cinder stalks off to the window, thinks for a moment, then starts to type furiously. Neo sidles closer and peeks over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of a wall of text before Cinder groans, deletes it all, and hurls the phone over her shoulder.

Neo catches it. When Cinder turns, she offers it back to her, then considers this and holds up a finger instead. She types into the scroll,  _ “It’s been a while,” _ and hits send.

Cinder narrows her eyes, but does not move to steal her scroll back. Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest (Grimm one included) and taps a foot impatiently. Neo wonders if she realizes she’s copying her.

The response from Salem comes almost immediately.  _ “You’re less to the point than usual.” _

_ “Not Cinder. She’s being immature. Wants to know when.” _

Salem’s next response takes a bit, so Neo hands Cinder her scroll back. She doesn’t bother trying not to look smug, even when Cinder glares at her.

Cinder’s scroll buzzes. Cinder  _ groans. _ “Soon? What do you  _ mean, _ soon? How am I supposed to know when that is?”

Neo takes the scroll back and types,  _ “You’re not. She’ll tell you when she’s ready to tell you.” _ She shows the screen to Cinder, then holds backspace.

If Neo was more charitable—which, as a rule, she rarely is—she’d phrase it more tactfully. As is, the only thing keeping her from pointing out Cinder’s hypocrisy again is self-preservation. It’s fun to mess around with Cinder, and it’s a good distraction from the mission Cinder no longer seems quite as focused on, but there’s only so much you can poke a bear before it attacks.

Or, in this case, only so much you can annoy a Maiden before she snaps.

Neo still thinks this is ridiculous when she’d done the exact same thing with her and Roman.

* * *

“For the record, this is  _ not _ a date.”

Clover stifles a laugh, and settles for an amused grin poorly hidden behind his glass. “Of course it isn’t.”

If Qrow doesn’t want it to be a date, then that’s fine. It’s just guys being bros, chilling in the one bar in Mantle that stayed open through and after the Grimm attack, five feet apart because they’re not gay and it’s not a date.

“How’s your drink?” Qrow asks eventually.

“Tastes like victory… which apparently tastes like Grimmess beer.”

Qrow snorts. “I’ll remember that one.”

“If you don’t, I’ll remember for you next time.” Clover tries not to grin too much at Qrow’s indignant spluttering, and only once he gives up on trying to form coherent words does he add, “How’s your water?”

“Technically still a drink.”

“How is it?”

“Watery? I don’t know, how the fuck am I supposed to describe  _ water?” _

“Easy. You—” Clover realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t know either. “Okay, point made. Watery does the job.”

At a loss for words, Clover settles for drinking instead. Qrow certainly isn’t offering anything on his end. Silence is good, particularly companionable silence. But it’s only a matter of time before the silence becomes heavy and oppressive.

For all Qrow’s insistence that  _ this is not a date, _ he certainly isn’t offering any alternatives for what it is, or for whatever it is between them. Whatever this is.

Clover Ebi is not, by any stretch of the words, easily intimidated. He’s confident,  _ too _ confident sometimes, but a semblance isn’t everything. He of all people knows that, and Qrow of all people knows that, or should.

“So, this isn’t a date,” Clover says at last. “What is it?”

Qrow looks at him and frowns. Eventually he admits, “Gonna be honest here, I didn’t think that far. Why?”

A shrug. “Might as well be honest too. I’d be lucky just to be your friend—pun not intended but greatly appreciated—and if this  _ is _ all we’ll ever be, I’m fine with that.”

“There’s a but there.”

“But,” Clover agrees, “if you’re ever interested in something more, I’m interested. I’d have to be blind not to be. So I guess what I’m asking is, will you ever be? I understand if you’re not. I’d just like to know for sure.”

“Oh. Huh. You’re serious?”

“When am I not?” Upon getting a very unimpressed look from Qrow, he hastily adds, “Don’t answer that.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

He doesn’t answer it verbally, at least. Instead, he sets his drink (water) down on the bar and quirks up an eyebrow. Clover is suddenly very aware that, for all his jokes about them being five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay, they’re much closer than that. More like one or two feet.

And Qrow is closing that distance fast. A hand on his shoulder, and Clover’s pulled into a kiss.

…and then the stool he’s sitting on breaks and his scroll buzzes at the same time. But it’s the thought that counts. The thought, and the simple realization that there’s no going back now—unfortunately not just in matters of the heart.

There’s a text from the General, one he shows to Qrow whose eyebrows shoot up even higher. Time to go.

“Good thing I’ve got a designated flyer,” Clover remarks on their way out the door.

“Oh shut up,” Qrow says in return. “I’ve flown while drunk before. I could do it again. I  _ won’t, _ but I  _ could.” _

Whatever happens between them between leaving the bar and returning to Atlas Academy is, of course, between them alone. And anyone with access to Mantle’s camera network. A Happy Huntress watches with some amusement, and makes a mental note to tease either or both of them about it if she gets the chance. A disgraced scientist takes one look at what’s going on, makes a disgusted noise, and stops looking.

However, thanks to a well-timed glitch in the cameras, nobody sees  _ how _ they return to Atlas. Nobody sees anything after the glitch but a single black bird.

* * *

“He wants to tell… everyone…  _ everything?” _ Ruby gives her teammates an incredulous look as they all make their way back to their dorm room. It’s okay to talk, they’re safely away from the General and Ace Ops now, after everyone split up to go their separate ways at the meeting’s end. “I… I’m really not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Seems like he’s been planning it for a while now and we just didn’t know,” Blake remarks. “He said he was moving it forward because of the Grimm attack, and because he’s finally got evidence Salem’s agents are in Atlas right now.”

“Yeah. I almost told him Salem is here herself, but… you’ve all seen how paranoid he is. He  _ needs _ to know, but I can’t help but think he’d do something rash. Oscar said he practically had a mental breakdown when he told him what we’d seen in the lamp.”

“Well, think of it this way,” Yang proposes. “If he announces to the whole kingdom that Salem exists, she’s going to respond in some way. Might even go on the air herself. He’ll find out soon enough.”

Ruby pushes open the dorm room door and flops down on the nearest bed. It happens to be Blake’s, but, well, it’s not like they weren’t sharing an air mattress back at Eudico’s place already. It’s okay. Besides, they’re girlfriends now, and that makes it doubly okay. 

“I don’t like hiding things from the General,” Ruby says, staring up at the ceiling. “But I keep doing it. I remember when we were just arriving in Atlas, seeing those broadcasts on every street, I was thinking, I don’t want to tell him about the lamp. But then we never made it up here and Oscar told him instead, and I suppose that was the right thing to do, but…”

She never quite finishes. Blake sits down next to her, followed by Yang. 

“I don’t know about you three,” Weiss says from across the room, “but I’m  _ tired. _ Try to keep it down.” She drops her weapon at the foot of her bed then pulls the covers over herself, fully clothed. 

Blake stands briefly to flick the lights off, then gently nudges Ruby aside so she can follow Weiss’s example. “One of you can stay,” she mumbles into her pillow. “Not sure there’s room for both.”

Ruby and Yang exchange a look. “I was here first,” Ruby says. Without even waiting for Yang’s inevitable counterargument, she kicks off her shoes and slides under the covers. 

But despite Blake’s soft embrace from behind, she can’t seem to fall asleep. Her concerns from the meeting still nag at her. Telling all of Atlas – and then the world – about Salem? Even the minimum, leaving out magic and Relics and gods, that’s still enough to cause more panic than the world has ever seen. 

Ironwood thinks he’s prepared, with the entire army and air fleet in defensive positions against the Grimm. But Mantle just  _ had _ an attack, and that army wasn’t doing much to help. The robots fall too easily, and the airships can’t fire within the city at all. If the kingdom panics… people will die. A lot of them. But knowing the General, there’s nothing she can do to sway his decision. 

Nothing  _ she _ can do. Ruby takes her two scrolls out of her pockets, and sets the one with all her friends’ contacts on the bedside table.  _ “There’s something I’m not sure if I should tell you,” _ she types on the other. 

_ “Oh?” _

She wasn’t really expecting an answer right away.  _ “You’re up late,” _ Ruby points out.  _ “Didn’t think I’d reach you. I’m just going to think out loud a bit, if that’s okay.” _

_ “Go right ahead,” _ Salem texts back.  _ “And I only need half the sleep of a normal human. Probably because Grimm don’t sleep at all.” _

Thinking out loud. Or as loud as texting ever is.  _ “If you were lying at our first meeting, then you’re even more of a threat now than you were before, and I should tell you nothing. But if you were telling the truth about everything, then Remnant should have nothing more to fear from you and I definitely should tell you.” _

No response. Of course. No matter what Salem might say in support of her previous words, there’s nothing stopping Ruby from simply doubting tonight’s reassurances just the same. 

_ “And I don’t know what to think. I want to believe you, but is that just wishful thinking that the world could be safe? What’s most likely is… You still want to take the other Relics, but maybe the damage you cause from now on will be limited? Hopefully? You’re still probably our enemy for now. But telling you this thing might still save lives?” _

Ruby’s fingers hover over the keyboard, but she pauses as the words “Her Grace is typing…” appear at the bottom of the window. Looking back over what she’d just written, any further thinking is likely to lead her in circles anyway. 

_ “Am I to understand that you think I’d act immediately on whatever you may or may not tell me tonight?” _

_ “It’s something Ironwood is planning to do. I personally think it’s a bad idea. But I don’t want to get anyone hurt in the process of stopping it.” _

_ “Well, if you decide against trusting me, you could always practice your lying skills a little. Tell me something he’s NOT planning. See if you can make it convincing.” _

Ruby almost just shuts the scroll. Is this really worth it? She can hardly think properly while this exhausted anyway. But Ironwood won’t wait much longer, now that he’s declared his intent. The moment he gets Robyn Hill by his side with a promise of finally telling the truth… 

_ “If Ironwood does the thing, people will die. Either he gains Mantle’s full support, or he loses the last bits of credibility he still has. In the first case we get overwhelming Grimm, in the second we get a revolt put down by the military. I don’t know what to do.” _

There’s not much she  _ can _ do. It feels wrong, giving out secret military plans to the enemy. But she’s not military, Ruby keeps reminding herself. General Ironwood is not her commanding officer, just an ally like any other. An ally who really isn’t thinking like a huntsman at the moment. 

One thing from her first meeting with Salem does stand out in her mind right now. The question about loyalty, if everything came into conflict. Ruby’s own answer was obvious to her: lives of the common people before all else. It’s looking more and more like Ironwood’s answer may be different. 

And just as her thoughts are tipping more and more toward principled disobedience, Salem’s text puts another thumb on the scale.  _ “Tell me something about my enemies and I’ll tell you something about yours?” _

That settles it, then. While the General and the rest of Ruby’s team are all asleep, she’s making a deal with the devil. She stares down at Blake’s arm still wrapped around her, and sighs. 

_ “I’ll even go first, if you like,” _ Salem volunteers.  _ “Cinder has an ally. I found out when she stole Cinder’s scroll and texted me, then I had Watts trace it and give me a video feed. Tiny girl with an umbrella who can disguise herself as anyone.” _

Disguise is new, but otherwise that sounds a lot like someone Yang told her about at Beacon. A tiny girl with an umbrella nearly killed her on Torchwick’s train. 

_ “We’ll be careful. Thanks.” _ Ruby takes another deep breath, then types a message Ironwood would sooner arrest her than let her send. If only he knew.  _ “Ironwood wants to tell the world everything he knows. Or at least about your existence. He thinks Mantle will follow him against a common enemy.” _

_ “Oh no.” _ It seems Salem shares her view that this can’t be allowed, though likely for different reasons.  _ “When?” _

_ “I don’t know. Sooner than he was going to before. If he says too much, he’ll call more Grimm than even the Fall of Beacon. Mantle won’t stand a chance.” _

_ “I’ll do my best to stop that.” _

_ “Just… don’t kill him, okay?” _

Ruby slides the scroll shut and lays it next to her other. How does she sleep, knowing she’s just betrayed a man who trusts in her? Knowing she’s spying for the enemy, and not even being coerced into doing so? 

After the stress of a dinner party and a Grimm incursion down in Mantle ended with everyone unhurt and Ruby laying in a soft bed in her girlfriend’s embrace… she sleeps like a baby. 

* * *

Traditionally, the official swearing in of Council members is held exactly a week from the date of their election. However, considering that there is no longer anything traditional about Robyn Hill’s election—never mind that she was never actually elected in the first place—all the officials involved agreed it might be better to do it sooner rather than later.

The official swearing in, after all, is really little more than a PR move. A new Council member can exercise any or all of their powers from the moment the polls close, as evidenced by one Councilman Schnee’s now infamous execution order sent thirty seconds after his false victory was secured. On the other hand, PR moves can be very important, particularly when the last person to hold this seat had caused a rather large Grimm attack simply by virtue of being elected.

In the end, the date of Councilwoman Hill’s swearing in does happen to be a week from the date of the interim election former Councilman Schnee won. This is only a happy accident. Had the other individuals involved been able to schedule the ceremony any earlier, they almost certainly would have, because the last thing  _ anyone _ needs is more Grimm.

(Except, of course, for Salem. But Robyn is very much in the minority knowing anything at all about her.)

“Repeat after me,” says Councilman Sleet, the most senior member of the Atlesian Council. “I, your name.”

Robyn is  _ sorely _ tempted to repeat back what he said exactly. But it’s probably best not to piss off the rest of the Council too much before she’s even gotten her two cents in. “I, Robyn Hill.”

“Do solemnly swear, before the people of this kingdom and your fellow Council members.”

“Do solemnly swear, before the people of this kingdom and my fellow Council members.”

Shockingly, the rest of the Council is actually here, although Robyn didn’t miss the fact that Ironwood was late.

“To protect and serve the Kingdom of Atlas throughout your term on the Council, in any manner you are capable of.”

Damn, no  _ wonder _ Jacques never made this oath. He would have been lying through his teeth.

“To protect and serve the Kingdom of Atlas throughout my term on the Council, in any manner I am capable of.”

“You take this oath in full view of your fellow citizens, being duly elected by them, and knowing that you may be removed from office at any time should you exercise grave misconduct.”

“I take this oath in full view of my fellow citizens, being duly elected by them, and knowing that I may be removed from office at any time should I exercise grave misconduct.”

Sleet takes a deep breath before continuing, “May the gods of this world and the next judge you according to your deeds.”

“May the gods of this world and the next judge me according to my deeds.” Robyn has to keep from rolling her eyes at that last repeated bit, but it  _ is _ tradition. The oath has been modified more than a few times over the years, most notably when the Kingdom of Mantle became the Kingdom of Atlas. Strangely enough, that line has always stayed.

“Very well.” Sleet extends a hand for Robyn to shake, so she does. “Welcome to the Council of the Kingdom of Atlas, Councilwoman Hill.”

Welcome, at least, until the traditional elections are held again— _ if _ Robyn loses. Which she has no intention of doing now that a particular hacker’s interference is out of the way.

* * *

Tyrian squats on a chair, waiting patiently with a grin plastered on his face. Across the table, Salem stares into a seer. Whatever she finds within seems neither especially pleasing nor problematic, and after a few minutes she merely sighs, and waves a hand to send it away. 

“Tyrian.” She finally fixes her gaze upon the agent awaiting her attention. “You need orders.”

“Yes, Your Grace. As much easy prey as there is in this city…” His grin widens further and he licks his lips. “A few more deaths hardly raises the discontent, at this point. How can I be of service?”

“You’ve been quite helpful already. Recovering the Relic of Knowledge is an impressive feat. You and Dr. Watts succeeded where Cinder and Hazel failed. Be proud of your accomplishments.” Salem rewards her most sycophantic follower with a smile. “It’s a shame the effort to frame the Protector of Mantle did not work out, but that’s not a major setback. If you desire more work…”

Salem takes a moment to think. “There are two possibilities for a useful assassination. When you returned from Robyn Hill’s gathering that night, you reported that you’d met a silver-eyed woman in the crowd. Arthur could help you identify her – after he’s done with his current project.”

“Yes…” Tyrian taps his fingers together. “She knows she’s in danger. She tried to claim she didn’t know what silver eyes were, that her eye color has just changed in an accident that scarred her face. But if she’s prepared? That just makes it more fun.” 

Salem’s eyes narrow. “Scarred her face… Across the eyes?”

Tyrian nods. 

“That’s very odd, then. If I didn’t know about her until now, who else tried to blind a silver-eyed warrior?” Salem shrugs and shakes her head. “No matter. That’s one of your options. The other… is one Winter Schnee.”

“Oh?” One of Ironwood’s inner circle would be a valuable mark. But why her, instead of the Ace Ops captain or the robot girl? 

“As far as I can tell, she’s been selected as the Winter Maiden’s replacement. Before the current Maiden dies – and with Cinder around, that could be any day now – I want to send Ironwood scrambling for a new candidate. No one else is as close to him except the Protector of Mantle, and she’s only questionably eligible. Ironwood wouldn’t take that chance. I don’t quite see him giving it to either of the Ace Ops women, so that means…”

“Someone not in the know,” Tyrian finishes. “Someone likely to make mistakes and get herself killed.”

“Someone we could  _ turn,” _ Salem corrects him. “Just like I’m turning a replacement Fall. Dead enemies are good, but living allies are  _ always _ better.” 

She rests back in her chair and smiles. “My efforts there are already beginning to pay off. We’ve struck our first deal, information for information. Watts is out there making use of that knowledge as we speak. I have no doubt Ruby will continue to be quite useful.”

Tyrian’s mad grin finally disappears. “And this time, my tail is safe.”

Salem only laughs. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had two people at the table who have tried to kill each other before. A younger, less stable Hazel once did some real damage to the poor agent I sent to recruit him.” Catching a note of uncertainty in Tyrian’s eyes, she adds, “You missed her by a few years. She disappeared while on a silver eye mission.”

“Hmmm. Well, if it comes to it…” Tyrian shrugs. “I can control myself if  _ she _ can.”

“Good. Now, I leave it up to you which target to go after first. But be quick. I expect we don’t have long now before the main event.”

Tyrian’s smile returns. “As you wish, Your Grace.” He stands up on the chair and bows deeply, then hops down and slips out of the hideout. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you _know_ Margulis is going to call Qrow a bootkisser instead of a bootlicker next time she interacts with him. also, if y'all were wondering what took this chapter so long, we kept writing scenes from part 3 instead. whoops.


	24. Part 2 Episode 10: In Memory, In Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody at Jacques Schnee's memorial service likes him, and of all the things Whitley could have picked up from his mother, he picks the worst. Ozpin, Clover, and Watts are all remarkably unobservant. One out of three of Salem's assignments is carried out, and Ironwood starts to have some dangerous thoughts.

To be a Schnee is to maintain a certain sense of decorum no matter what the situation. This still applies even if the Schnee patriarch is dead, and the only person still on Whitley Schnee’s side at this point is his mother. A part of him wonders if she even  _ is _ on his side, or if she betrayed the Schnee name too.

But she hasn’t left, like  _ Weiss _ or  _ Winter. _ She hasn’t died, like his father. She’s still here, even if she wasn’t feeling well enough to attend her own husband’s memorial. She’s still here, and that means more than Whitley will ever admit.

She’d be happy to know how many people came to the memorial. There are, honestly, far more here than Whitley expected to attend. There are more faunus, too. Perhaps his father’s attempts at pacifying Vox Faunus worked after all.

At least  _ something _ worked, in the end. It’s too bad his father didn’t live to see it. But Whitley is still here, and while he isn’t quite old enough to inherit the company  _ yet, _ his mother certainly has no interest in it. Who else would it go to? Who else  _ could _ it go to, with Winter and Weiss both legally barred? 

The SDC will only be leaderless for a few months, and then it falls to Whitley to carry on his father’s good work. It’s what he’s been training for for years, and yet… it wasn’t supposed to be this soon. He should have had more time.

He taps the microphone. The hall goes silent. Whitley risks a glance over his shoulder at his father’s closed casket, takes a deep breath, and begins.

“Thank you all for coming,” he says. “My name is Whitley Schnee. I’d like to say a few words, before we begin.”

He blinks fast, and continues, “My father was… not a  _ nice _ man. He never found that to be valuable in his work. But what he was, which nobody can deny, was  _ driven. _ He knew what he wanted, he knew how to get there, and he wouldn’t stop for anything. Or anyone. Thank you.”

Whitley steps down from the podium, and asks, quieter, “Would anyone else like to—”

“Me,” says a dark-skinned woman in a red hood. She takes the microphone from him and, as Whitley moves to disappear into the crowd, says, “I’ll be blunt. Jacques Schnee was a vile, racist stain upon this world. His company brought wealth to himself, dust to the four kingdoms, and unimaginably cruel and abusive treatment to tens of thousands of faunus workers, many of whom suffered debilitating permanent injuries on the job and received no proper treatment or compensation. The world is better off without this man, and I for one am not going to miss him.”

As other guests step up one by one after her, it doesn’t take Whitley very long to realize that, apparently, absolutely nobody had come here to say  _ good _ things about his father. He should get back up there and at least  _ try _ to defend the dead man in the casket.

He doesn’t. Instead, he goes to find the punch. 

Maybe he’ll be lucky. Maybe someone’s spiked it.

* * *

Winter Schnee.  _ Special Operative _ Winter Schnee, to be precise. Supposedly special enough to oversee an entire shipment of… materials. To where, Tyrian isn’t entirely sure, nor is he sure exactly what the  _ materials _ in question are.

Watts certainly knows. Watts also makes it no secret of his disdain for Tyrian in particular, or for anyone that doesn’t adhere to his standards of normalcy. There is, after all, a very good reason why Arthur Watts and Jacques Schnee got along so well.

But, so long as Watts continues to have the Goddess’s favor, Tyrian will continue to tolerate him.

That still doesn’t help Tyrian with his assignment. His assignment, if he decides to carry it out today, should leave a gaping, poisoned wound in all the General’s plans. 

Today seems like as good a day as any. Better, even, as Schnee so rarely leaves the city above. Plus it’s the same day his order was given, which is sure to please Her Grace. 

Her name may be Winter, but the cold never bothered him anyway.

Unfortunately, the truck abruptly departing  _ without _ Schnee in it  _ does _ bother him. There’s no obvious reason why, unless she somehow knew he was coming for her. But she couldn’t have known. Could she?

_ How _ could she have known? Tyrian stayed well out of camera range. Nobody saw him come. Nobody  _ knew _ he was coming. Nobody except the Goddess, and whoever else she’d told.

_ Someone _ dropped the ball.  _ Someone _ must have told Winter. Far be it from Tyrian’s place to question the actions of the Goddess, but perhaps she shouldn’t have placed so much trust in the little Rose after all.

With that in mind, and while he’s still in Mantle—perhaps his other target wasn’t warned. So off Tyrian goes to hunt down a particular silver-eyed warrior. Maybe, just  _ maybe, _ his Goddess will come to understand that the other one isn’t as loyal as she thinks.

She must know better than to tell a potential agent – not even a person fully part of the group yet – that someone was going to assassinate her girlfriend’s sister. Right? She must. The Goddess is smart. The Goddess is capable. Much more so than General Ironwood. The Goddess does not  _ make _ mistakes. 

Then maybe she hasn’t. Maybe Ironwood had a rare moment of foresight, or simply luck. 

No matter. Tyrian has options. Whoever this Lis Magnolia is, her home address rests in Tyrian’s scroll. Watts hadn’t told him any details beyond that, but he doesn’t need any. The idea of one less set of silver eyes in the world is a powerful motivator. 

Grandpa Caliban had told him what happened to his grandmother, after all. 

* * *

For such a smart man, Dr. Pietro Polendina can really be quite unobservant. Misplacing a few tools or even a small weapon or prosthetic is one thing, but losing an entire body for hours is on a whole new level. 

Ozpin is lucky the scientist’s brain overlooks those details, or else he’d be in trouble about now. He’d been moved off the main work table a while ago, relegated to the ever disorganized room full of half-finished projects that Pietro  _ surely _ will come back to any day now. Still in full view of the door, and yet his presence was merely background noise in Pietro’s vision, his absence during the man’s unplanned return passed over without a thought. 

Instead of a backroom in a Mantle pharmacy, he’s up in Atlas again. Still in a workshop, however, one of many in the central complex that houses Atlas Academy, the military headquarters, and the CCT. When it comes to constructing a miniature transference device inside his own body, it takes some equipment Pietro just doesn’t keep around. 

The cameras in the hall outside say someone is approaching. Ozpin pauses, pliers in hand, to focus on the image. Just one man, but he  _ is _ wearing a white lab coat like he belongs here. And he’s not turning at the last corner before the door. 

Damn. Ozpin flips his back compartment shut and picks up a different component that isn’t quite the next in his installation sequence. Got to keep up the human impression. 

The door is pushed open and the man enters. He looks familiar, somehow, but where has Ozpin seen him before? Tall, tan skin and dark hair, green eyes just like his own now, with a long white lab coat, glasses, and a large handbag. Maybe this is the lab’s owner, and Ozpin saw him when scoping the place out earlier?

“What are you doing in here?” the man asks. A reasonable inquiry, and yet… he drew back slightly toward the door as he spoke. And he moved one booted foot behind the other. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ozpin bluffs. It’s not much to go on, but this doesn’t  _ seem _ like a person who’s meant to be here. 

The man hesitates, just for a split second. “I know, this hasn’t been my lab in years,” he drawls, “but I’ve misplaced a few items and thought I might have brought them in here last time Dr. Palladino called for me.”

Ozpin gestures to the rest of the lab. “Well, be my guest. As long as you’re not looking for anything I’m currently using.”

The scientist spares barely a glance at the table as he brushes past. “Your voice sounds familiar, but I don’t recall your face,” he says. “Have we spoken before? Perhaps at a junior academy science fair?”

“If we have, it was years ago,” Ozpin adds effortlessly. “I’ll be graduating from Atlas this year. Although, I do think I’ve seen you around before.”

He keeps careful note of the items this strange man picks up. A screwdriver first. Another one, maybe with a different head. Wire cutters. A soldering iron. 

“Perhaps,” the man hums, lifting a battery pack from a drawer and stuffing it into a side pocket on the large bag he carries. “If you don’t mind me asking, what  _ are _ you doing in this lab? Surely the academy has its own facilities?”

“I’ve been working with Dr. Palladino on my own time,” Ozpin lies. “He gave me permission to use his workshop whenever I need to.” The man freezes. Something he said must have struck a chord, of some sort. But what? Better to turn the conversation back the other way. “That’s quite a collection you’re gathering there. Did something happen to your own workshop?”

The man sighs and rolls his eyes. “Window offices are great, except when there’s Grimm around.”

Now that’s a different story from what he’d said in the beginning. Whoever this is, he’s not meant to be here either. But  _ who is he? _ Ozpin takes a mental snapshot of his face and runs it through the Atlas facial recognition database. 

No match. Nothing on the Atlas Academy faculty records either. In fact, he seems conspicuously absent from every repository of personal information Ozpin can access. But if his own cover is already potentially blown… 

Ozpin stands suddenly. Why not go on the offensive? “I think you’ve been lying to me.” 

“Is that so?” The man raises one eyebrow, then turns away to pluck a laser cutter off its rack and stuff that as well into a pocket. “So are you, but I wasn’t about to point it out. Last I checked, Rosie Palladino was a woman. Are you sure you didn’t mean Doctor  _ Irmis?” _

What would the Grimm Studies professor slash admissions director have to do with – oh. Well that was rather rude of this man, wasn’t it? It gives him an idea, though. 

“No, I mean Doctor Ronald Palladino,” Ozpin bluffs. “He transitioned last spring. His business, not mine.”

A quick perusal of the Academy’s faculty and staff shows that this is not the case. If Dr Palladino is in fact transgender, she is the other way entirely. However, this man will not be able to check that fact without seeming suspicious. More suspicious than he already is, in any case.

The man visibly grimaces. “Good for h—him. If she insists. Not my problem anymore, in any case. Hasn’t been for perhaps longer than  _ you _ realize. However, I do not currently possess the time nor patience to figure  _ you _ out, so if you’ll excuse me…”

With a thoughtful stroke of his chin, he picks up his bag, and strides out the doors, leaving Ozpin to wonder just who the man is. He’d clearly known the real Dr Palladino, or at the very least known  _ of _ her. Have any of James’s scientists gone over to  _ her _ side?

_ Wait. _

That cocky swagger. That mustache. That sense of comfort in a  _ lab coat, _ of all things. Perhaps a junior academy science fair wasn’t as inaccurate as the man had thought it was by using it as a bluff.

That was  _ Dr Arthur Watts. _ Someone who was thought to be dead, until recently. Ozpin runs a quick search for the name—conspicuously missing from any publicly available records, as expected. But now that he knows…  _ that’s _ where he’d seen that face before. On the Vox Faunus broadcast accusing Watts of working with Jacques Schnee. 

And that raises another question:  _ how long _ might Jacques have been under her sway, knowingly or not? It doesn’t much matter now that he’s dead, but his enormous network of contacts might still be carrying out her will. 

What Salem promises people to ensure their cooperation, Ozpin may never know.

But in the case of one Doctor Watts… there has to be  _ someone _ technologically advanced on her side, and it certainly isn’t Cinder, or Hazel, or any of her other known agents. She must have had him for years – after all, what other reason is there to fake his death?

He should look up more about that, actually. What was Arthur Watts’s role in the Paladin Incident? Ozpin directs his thoughts outward over the CCT network, searching for news articles, military reports Pietro’s clearance can get him, even the man’s own obituary. 

And then, nothing. The whole CCT, what felt until now like just another section of his mind, goes dark. For the first time since landing in this robot body, Ozpin actually experiences nothing but what his body can perceive directly. 

After more than a month of hyperconnected awareness, it’s not a good feeling at all. 

Neither is the sinking feeling in his gut from knowing exactly who shut the network off, and having a pretty good idea of why. 

* * *

Lis Magnolia, as the other silver-eyed warrior is known, is either remarkably averse to going outside or she’s been tipped off too. Either option makes Tyrian’s job  _ much _ more difficult. Not impossible, not for him, but near impossible to do without witnesses. He’d have to silence the witnesses too – the old lady wouldn’t put up much of a fight, but the four other huntresses…

Happy ones. That does explain why she’d been at the election night party. A secret fifth member, kept out of their public operations. 

Much as it irks him to do so, it’s better to bide his time and wait for the right opportunity on this mark as well. He knows patience well, for he simply must, but one does not leave the Goddess waiting.

She’ll understand that there was no opportunity. She’ll forgive him.

Tyrian is, quite suddenly, snapped out of his thoughts by what sounds like someone  _ whistling. _ Oh, how he would  _ love _ to silence  _ that _ forever, but that would be ‘unnecessary killing,’ and far be it from him to go directly against an order from the Goddess.

Instead, he carefully threads his tail through his empty beltloops, puts on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses he doesn’t need nor want, and affixes a faux mustache to his upper lip, completing the disguise. Amazing, what a simple change in facial hair can do. Not quite so amazing as what a single death can do, but vaguely interesting.

The whistler turns the corner, and Tyrian suddenly finds himself face-to-face with someone he  _ certainly _ wasn’t expecting to see in Mantle. It’s the captain of the Ace Ops himself, spinning a  _ horseshoe _ of all things around his finger until he sees Tyrian and catches it perfectly.

“Hello there, citizen,” Clover says cheerfully. “Fine evening today, isn’t it?”

Tyrian looks up at the clouded, dreary evening sky, then back at Clover with a raised eyebrow. “Is it?”

Clover shrugs. “Depends on perception, I guess. Everything alright?”

It occurs to Tyrian, suddenly, that now is the  _ perfect _ time. Not to kill Clover—he’s already been far too exposed to do that easily—but, perhaps… to show him the truth of the Goddess. Living allies  _ are _ better than dead enemies, after all. She’d said that when she gave him his mission.

“As alright as it can be, living down here in the shadow of the greatest kingdom.” Tyrian smiles to punctuate his point. “One might wonder, of course… how  _ do _ you excuse that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone down here knows your face, Captain Ebi. Your military’s been hoarding supplies. Supplies that  _ could _ be used for a more transparent, more tangible benefit. Sure, we  _ could _ give you the benefit of the doubt and  _ assume _ it’s for our own good—”

“It is,” Clover interrupts, but Tyrian isn’t done.

“—but how do we know? Do  _ you _ even know?”

“Yes. I do. It  _ is _ for your own good. When the time is right, you and  _ everyone _ will understand just how much the General, how much we  _ all _ have sacrificed to keep you safe.”

“From what?” It’s a perfectly innocent question, and yet Tyrian is positively  _ delighted _ to see Clover grimace slightly. “Atlas is, of course, the most well-defended kingdom of the world, but what from? After this long, you don’t seriously still think Vale will attack us?”

If there was doubt in Clover’s eyes for a moment, it’s gone now. “From anything that threatens the people of this kingdom, those from Mantle  _ and _ from Atlas. Good night.”

As he turns on his heel and walks away, Tyrian’s perfectly innocent if unsettlingly smiley facade falls to narrowed eyes and a scowl. Living allies are only better than dead enemies if you can  _ make _ the enemies into allies. Captain Clover Ebi of the Ace Ops is an enemy that, clearly, will not become an ally at all. Not unless he’s hiding his doubts very,  _ very _ well.

Dead enemy, then, is what it will simply have to be. But not yet. Tyrian still has his own assignment, and he  _ will _ complete it, one way or another.

* * *

Nobody spiked the punch. 

Of course they didn’t. Whitley should have taken the initiative and done it himself. As any introduction to the business world will tell you, if you want something done, either do it yourself or provide enough of an incentive that others will do it for you. One might think that being at a memorial to someone who everybody clearly hated with a passion would be enough of an incentive.

Clearly, it wasn’t. Whitley nurses his sixth or seventh cup of nonalcoholic punch and wonders if he needs to be here at all. Everyone seems to have forgotten about him. They certainly  _ haven’t _ forgotten about his father, but nothing short of an Atlesian Paladin has the power to open the casket, so his father’s body is safe enough.

If he doesn’t leave entirely, maybe he can step out for a few minutes. Mother’s been drinking less lately, but she must still have alcohol stashes hidden around the estate. Even so, the issue with that is  _ finding _ one. And several legal issues besides, but Whitley is  _ so _ beyond that right now. The law never stopped his father’s business, after all. Why should it stop him now?

“Hey,” someone says, “are you okay?”

Someone’s… talking to him? Asking  _ him _ if he’s okay? At  _ this _ party?  _ Why? _

Whitley glances over. Someone around his age, maybe a bit younger. Cute freckles, a nice formal-looking green coat, a collapsible cane he isn’t old enough to need.

“Does it matter?” Whitley asks in return. 

That seems to take the other boy aback slightly. Eventually, however, he nods. “You’re… Whitley?”

“Whitley Schnee. Yes.” 

“Oscar.” He follows Whitley’s gaze to the podium, where yet  _ another _ person who hated everything his family stood for is passionately saying as much. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Answer mine first. Why does it matter? You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t hate him.”

“Well, you’re not him, are you?”

Whitley opens his mouth, then shuts it. “No.”

“To answer your second question, I’m here with some friends who will probably get up there themselves at some point.”

Whitley’s implication wasn’t actually a question, and if it was, Oscar didn’t answer it. He implied right back that he  _ did _ hate Whitley’s father, but at least he has the tact not to outright say so. Whitley can respect that.

“What academy are you going to?” Whitley asks instead.

“Sorry?”

“You’re training to be a huntsman, aren’t you?” Whitley gestures to the cane.

“Oh! Yeah.” Oscar reaches back and holds it out. With a click of a button, it extends. “This technically isn’t mine, I’m just… borrowing it? Sort of? My own cane will probably be finished soon, though. How about you?”

Whitley  _ freezes. _ “Excuse me?”

“How about you,” Oscar repeats patiently. “I’m going to Atlas soon. The academy, that is.”

“I’m not, I don’t—” Whitley takes a moment to center himself. When he speaks again, it’s in a much colder tone. “I prefer to leave such primitive barbarics for those who enjoy it.”

“Ah,” Oscar says like he didn’t just call him primitive. Or barbaric. “The punch is nice.”

“Yes. On that we can agree.”

Whitley rather hastily excuses himself after that, from both Oscar’s politer company than he deserves and, after brushing past a plum-coated man waiting silently in the entryway, the entire function. His room is quiet, devoid of all unnecessary items as it should be.

And yet…

Instead of burying his face in a pillow and waiting for sleep to claim him, Whitley unlocks his scroll and goes to a particular website. He’s had the site bookmarked for years, not that he needs to in order to remember the address. Once upon a time, he’d looked up to his older sisters, and when Winter left for Atlas he had saved the link for his future self. Then Father made it clear that Winter’s decision was a betrayal, and yet somehow, even after that, he’d never managed to make his scroll forget the page. 

_ ATLAS NEEDS YOU, _ says the application portal.  _ TOP CLASSES! CAREER GROWTH! APPLY NOW!  _

Whitley’s finger hovers over the button, closer than it’s ever been before. He doesn’t want this. He  _ doesn’t want this, _ and yet it’s all he can do not to press the button. What strange magic did that boy in green possess, to give him such a compulsion? 

Fighting Grimm with one’s own body and aura is primitive, when the Atlesian military has so many new and powerful robots. And yet… two Schnees have become huntresses already. Surely they too maintain a sense of decorum in any situation, no matter how barbaric. Right? And Winter has certainly risen high up the ranks in a few short years. 

But those two Schnees hate him. Neither of Whitley’s sisters ever speaks to him unless forced to, and he knows they badmouth him behind his back. 

But Winter never had many nice things to say about Weiss either, until the latter went off to Beacon. Not really until her visit that fall, during the tournament. Her opinion of one younger sibling had improved rapidly. Could it happen again?

It is really possible to betray a dead man?

Whitley looks down at his scroll again.  _ Thank you for your interest, _ it says.  _ A representative will be in touch shortly. _

His finger must have slipped. 

* * *

Tyrian slams the door behind him as he slinks inside. Not a good sign at all, particularly not when  _ Tyrian _ is concerned. Although is anything a particularly good sign when Tyrian is concerned? A trail of rapidly cooling corpses in his wake is a sign that he’s doing his job well, but it’s still not  _ good, _ necessarily.

Personally, Watts can barely stand him. That Salem herself  _ can _ stand him is either a testament to her patience or her folly, or potentially both. He’s useful, undeniably so, but Watts is no fool. She trusts the animal who belongs in an asylum more than  _ Dr. Arthur Watts, _ for some unfathomable reason.

Trust, of course, goes both ways. He trusts Salem no more and no less than she trusts him.

Without looking up from what’s going to be a far better leg than the one she’d given him, Watts asks, “Assassination go well?”

_ “Someone _ tipped them off,” Tyrian all but hisses. He vaults over the back of the couch and sits upside-down on it, sulking. It doesn’t escape Watts’s notice that the tail is closer to him than not. “A  _ few _ witnesses would be fun, but not so many. Your mission went similarly poorly, I’m sure.”

Watts makes a so-so gesture with his free hand. “The CCT is down, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and I now have the supplies I need to continue making a better prosthetic and to accomplish our benefactor’s goals. Anything else is irrelevant.”

“A  _ better _ prosthetic.” There’s a note of hostility in Tyrian’s voice, more than the normal amount in any case. Watts looks away from his work to see narrowed eyes and a tail suddenly dangling that much closer. “You don’t  _ like _ the gift our Goddess has given you?”

“Of course I do,” Watts lies, rather pathetically even by his standards.

“Are you  _ ungrateful _ to our Goddess?”

“Of course not,” and that isn’t even a lie. He did need  _ some _ kind of new leg. 

“I would certainly hope you aren’t.” The tip of the stinger dangles, not coincidentally, between Tyrian’s face and his own. “Because that could be very,  _ very _ bad. For you, of course.”

“Of course,” Watts agrees.

For all his posturing, Tyrian has  _ some _ restraint. He won’t outright attack Watts unless he is directly (or indirectly) ordered to. So long as Watts stays out of the line of fire himself, he will be perfectly safe.

That is far more than Tyrian will be able to expect from him, should the situation demand it.

“I  _ do _ have a perfectly legitimate reason for requiring a metal leg, and not a Grimm one,” Watts says at last. “It happens to be rather similar to your own reason.”

Tyrian scowls.  _ “I _ would have preferred—”

“But you couldn’t, because Grimm ichor reacted negatively to your own venom. Do you see these?” Watts shows off the rings on one hand. “This limb already possesses an older version of the software in them. Ballas’s commission of this actually gave me the idea – though I wasn’t about to lose an arm myself, hence the rings instead. With some upgrades, I won’t need to worry about losing these any longer. Do you have any idea what a  _ pain _ it is to replace even one? I suppose not, seeing as all you think of is murder for the sake of your Goddess.”

“Oh, that’s not  _ all _ I think of,” Tyrian replies smoothly. “I also think of doing other tasks for our Goddess. Intimidation. Recruitment. The occasional  _ non _ lethal poisoning. And, sometimes–” His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “–it is  _ quite _ delightful to imagine murders  _ other _ than the ones ordered by the Goddess.”

There wouldn’t be any missing Tyrian’s meaning even if he  _ didn’t _ have his tail hanging menacingly again. Watts should have refused to build him a new one. He should have made one that would malfunction, explode, and oh so tragically kill him the first time he attempted to use it.

But he didn’t, and now he has to live with the consequences. No matter. He’s survived worse than a homicidal maniac gleefully imagining his death.

“Fascinating,” Watts says dryly. “I never knew you had it in you.” He clears his throat and returns to his work. “Now, if you’ll excuse me… go do whatever it is you do while waiting for her to return. Stare at a picture of her on your wall or something.”

“Perhaps I will,” Tyrian says, and Watts genuinely can’t tell, nor does he want to know, if he’s joking.

* * *

General James Ironwood really should have gone to sleep about three hours ago. But complications just keep occurring, and he  _ has _ to be awake for the  _ moment _ the CCT comes back up. He has to be. It’s too convenient that it broke down now, when he needs it most. Any moment now he’s expecting a report on the damage, surely telling him it was sabotage like he already knows it has to be. 

The agent of Salem who brought down the CCT—almost certainly one very specific agent who Ironwood and the rest of the world had thought dead— must have really known what he was doing to bring it down so thoroughly, and he could all too easily do it again. But Amity was designed to maintain communications even if two of the ground-based towers fell. All is not yet lost. 

If it hadn’t been for Vox Faunus, he wouldn’t have a clue Arthur was still alive. No one would. It’s ironic, really. In other times, he might have considered them almost allies, but not in the world of today. They’re not his enemy, but he’s become theirs. But even through the animosity, they’ve proven to be a useful ally anyway this once, if a potentially concerning one.

That explains why a particular vigilante has stopped turning up unannounced in his office lately, too. She  _ would _ have joined up with Vox Faunus at the first opportunity. Perhaps Ironwood will never know for sure if the woman calling herself Little Duck is a former student of his, but she knows too much about how Atlas works not to be one.

And speaking of Vox… Ironwood scrolls to the beginning of their latest transmission and presses play. That report on the CCT isn’t here yet so he can spare a few minutes to listen to the whole thing, even if he already got the gist from a transcript someone wrote out.

The transcript, as it turns out, did  _ not _ describe what Vox looked like this time. There is no sign of a faunus trait in this version of Jacques. There are no donkey ears, no eyestalks, no horns or whiskers or scales. He looks completely human.

He also looks very dead. There’s no light in his eyes. The flesh on his bones has already begun to sag, and the color in his face is gone. As the projection clears its throat, a patch of flesh falls from its cheek to the ground.

In short,  _ someone _ with Vox is very,  _ very _ good with video editing. If Little Duck isn’t at least vaguely involved in that, Ironwood will eat his own guns.

_ “People of Mantle. People of Atlas,” _ the distorted voice proclaims. There’s a note of triumph to it that even heavy distortion can’t hide.  _ “Today is an important day, for us and for the world we live in. The world that will now be a much better place, now that a scourge upon it has departed forever. Make no mistake as to who I mean.” _

“But how,” Ironwood mutters, “did you  _ know?” _

The broadcast had been made at exactly eight o’clock the morning after Jacques’s demise. No news outlet was authorized to release news about it until  _ nine o’clock. _ And yet, somehow, Vox had known.

_ “Jacques Schnee is dead. Never again will he exploit the faunus of Atlas and the world with hazardous conditions and starvation wages. Never again will he conspire with criminals to undermine the democracy of our kingdom. Never again will he enrich himself upon the lives of everyone around him. Jacques Schnee is dead, and the hero who killed him walks free. Citizens, rejoice!” _

How did they know? How could they have known  _ any _ of that? Vox operatives couldn’t even have stolen records – not that they should even have known where to look – because the fact Willow did him in never even made it  _ into _ the records to begin with. She was pardoned at the scene, so there was nothing to report. 

Which means… either someone at the scene was reporting to Vox, or they’ve got bugs planted in the offices of either himself or the other Council members. Neither of those seems likely, but at least one has to be true. He should order another sweep of this room, just in case. 

_ “But our work is not yet done, _ ” the dead Jacques continues. Right. He could probably turn that off now, but he feels almost compelled to hear them out, just for the chance the speaker might let something slip.  _ “The Schnee Dust Company will need new leadership while Jacques’s heir is not yet of age. Let it be known that Vox Faunus calls for a board of directors comprised at least half of faunus, and at least half of former workers in the SDC’s lowest tier positions. We will not settle for any leadership which does not know firsthand the experience Jacques put us through.” _

Finally Ironwood does press the button to end it. There wasn’t a lot left on the video anyway. The group’s demands sound reasonable – in other times, he would have called them allies and pushed for just such a board – but now? At this moment, the logistics and the industrial power of the SDC could be just what Ironwood needs to push Amity to completion. It must be  _ his _ people running it, not some inexperienced mine workers. 

Wait. A flash of memory comes to him, spurred by the sight of a Vox broadcast in front of him. Ironwood closes that video and searches up the record of their  _ last _ message. The one where Jacques had eyestalks, interspersed with clips of what was certainly members of Vox themselves taking down that metal spider. 

All the figures are blurred out. Of course they are. But there… someone with long yellow hair is fighting with her fists. Someone small is wielding a hammer bigger than they are. And… 

Ironwood pauses, and rewinds the video frame by frame until the flicker he saw at the screen’s border comes back. Now  _ that’s _ proof that even blurring can’t deny. The edge of a white figure, large and floating off the ground, with one gossamer wing beating rapidly for just a split second before the scene changed. 

A Schnee summon, and Winter was well accounted for at the time. Team RWBY and Nora were  _ all _ working with Vox. 

And Vox was working with the Happy Huntresses. 

And the Happy Huntresses were working against him and against the Amity project. 

Any one of those children could have leaked Jacques’s death to his enemies. Ironwood sighs at the thought. Vox and Robyn aren’t  _ bad _ people, only ignorant, but the young huntresses have no excuse. Traveling here with Ozpin and Qrow, they must know that beating Salem is more important than  _ anything _ else. 

Are they with him or not? How much other top-secret information might be getting out, because of them? 

His musings are interrupted by a knock at the door. His report is here, delivered by someone identifying himself as a technician. Apparently he does maintenance work on the CCT even in normal times, so he can confidently estimate how long a fix will take. 

Two  _ days? _ Maybe  _ three? _ Ironwood clenches a metal fist and resists the urge to slam it on his desk. According to the report, key components were not just blown out through overuse, they were removed entirely with surgical precision. 

Sabotage, then. And whoever did it knew  _ exactly _ what parts to take. Clearly Watts, but a question still remains: how did he know  _ when _ to strike? Ironwood knows who’s leaking information out of his office. He knows who confidential knowledge is getting to. So what’s the link between them? 

Where can he get proof of  _ that? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ends Part 2. Next up we'll have another character short, and then finish out strong in Part 3. The finale approacheth. Be warned.


	25. Character Short: May Marigold

Different schools choose their teams, and who is on them, in different ways. At Beacon Academy, for instance, it is seemingly random chance who incoming students partner with. Your partner is the first person whose eyes you meet after being launched (off a cliff, reliant only on your own skills and landing strategies) into the nearby Emerald Forest.

Upon closer inspection, however, Beacon’s team creation is not at all about chance, but _choice._ Students have the chance to meet and mingle with other freshmen and _only_ other freshmen the day and night before teams are picked. Should, for instance, a girl meet another during initiation and find that she intrigues her, she can make an effort to land in the same general area as her prospective partner, and be the first to catch her eye.

Or, if the girl is particularly shameless, she could always grapple onto her soon-to-be partner while they’re still in the air.

Beacon is, out of the four, the school where students have the most choice in their partners. Shade’s practices are the closest behind it, with their massive free-for-all fight to see who naturally comes together. At a greater distance comes Haven, nominally the freest of them all, but where incoming students are forbidden to speak until teams are formed and must simply _know_ who they want to group up with. 

Atlas, however, is the complete opposite of Beacon. Students don’t choose their partners. Instructors simply _create_ the partnerships and teams wholesale based on fighting styles, semblances, and (to a lesser extent) personalities, all of which is on record beforehand. This results in one of three outcomes. Teams either get along scarily well to the point where they stay in touch years later, they actively try to murder each other at least three times during their attendance, or they get along well _enough_ but don’t stay in touch after graduation.

Gaining three fast friends for life is, of course, _much_ less common than getting along but not _that_ well. Fortunately, plotting the murders of your teammates is also less common.

As far as Team RMJT goes, the M in it is cautiously optimistic that nobody will try to kill each other. Robyn is arguably the best choice out of all of them for team leader, Joanna is quiet and Fiona even more so, but they both _must_ be skilled, or they wouldn’t have made it to Atlas to begin with.

As long as those three teammates do their best, a particular Marigold will happily join them. Maybe they’ll prove to be more interesting after a few weeks of classes. Maybe, to be optimistic, they’ll eventually all bond with each other like chewing gum and long hair.

M doesn’t believe that either, and so takes the first opportunity to ditch R, J, and T in favor of some of the older students. There’s an interesting group by the door, second-years probably. Nearest is a guy with brown hair spiked up, spinning a horseshoe around a finger as he listens intently to a teammate with dark hair and dark glasses. A taller, lankier, yellow-haired man leans against the wall at an angle that can’t possibly be comfortable, exchanging exasperated looks with—oh, another _faunus,_ interesting. The team had all heard that Fiona Thyme wasn’t the first faunus student at Atlas Academy, but none of them had seen any others until now.

That settles it. M heads over with a passably friendly wave. Turns out they _are_ a second-year team, named Team CMSN. Horseshoe man is Clover Ebi, cute faunus with a wagging tail is Marrow Amin. Mr. Tall is Simon Irmis, who might also be a faunus—it’s a little unclear, but the human spine doesn’t bend like that, right?—and the woman in black who refuses to take her sunglasses off is Nora Night.

Simon is a _little_ loud, Clover is a _little_ overconfident, and while Nora seems very cool she also doesn’t like Marigolds very much, and who can blame her? That family name, unfortunately, has a lot of meanings and not all of them are good. Not as bad or as well known as the _Schnee_ name, at least, but enough that attending a Huntsman Academy is a major break from tradition. 

Marrow, however, is cute. _And_ interested.

If only the rest of Team RMJT didn’t show up before M could actually _get_ anywhere with him.

“Hey, Marigold!” Robyn loops an arm around her teammate’s shoulders, flashing a grin to the older students. “We were wondering where you went off to.”

“I didn’t go _that_ far,” Marigold protests.

“Course not. Being the only boy on the team too much for you already?”

“If you want to trade,” Nora offers, “I’ve got the _opposite_ issue. _Way_ too much testosterone for me. I’ll happily join up with the girls.”

“I’ll pass,” Marigold says, eventually. “Not much of a fan of testosterone either. But thanks.”

Marigold ignores the uncomfortable squelching feeling at being referred to as a boy, as always. What other option is there? Be a girl? Something in between? Nah.

As they all make their way to RMJT’s dorm room, Marigold walks in the back, and doesn’t notice the thoughtful look on Robyn’s face. 

* * *

“Fuck,” she says, emphatically.

Robyn nods sympathetically. “Honestly, I’m just glad I finally got you to accept it. Even if it did take until third year.”

“How long have _you_ known?”

“Uh… first day of orientation? Suspected, at least. And hey, you’re not alone.”

“That much,” Marigold mutters, “I knew _very_ well.”

Robyn Hill, as Marigold and the rest of her team found out through an accident involving a hot cup of coffee, Fiona’s favorite blanket, and a stray cat a few months ago, is trans. In retrospect, it makes a _lot_ of sense. So does Robyn’s bugging Marigold to come with her to various student groups since then, and even before that.

“Fuck,” Marigold says again. “I… well, I’ve never been particularly attached to my name, but it’s definitely not, well… I just planned on changing it after graduation. Never really thought about to what, although my first choice would have been something gender-neutral like, I don’t know, Avery or something.”

“You really _are_ thick, aren’t you?” Robyn only smiles in response to Marigold’s glare. “Hey, you’ve got plenty of time. You’ll find something you like. We all support you—don’t give me that look, I’ve known Fiona for years and she picks up on _everything,_ and Joanna figured it out last week—and so will everyone else. Honestly, the teachers are better about trans stuff than they are about faunus stuff, which, well… still isn’t _ideal,_ but it’s much better than _I_ was expecting.”

“That’s… good,” Marigold agrees. “So. I guess I’m a girl.”

“You’re a girl! I texted Jo and asked her to cover for us in our next class. Want to shout it from the rooftops?”

“Why would I…” She trails off, looks more closely at Robyn who is grinning just a _little_ too much. “You’ve actually done it.”

“Three times now. It’s _very_ affirming. Also it’s getting kind of hot in here, you know?”

Marigold _does_ know. So, she—and it feels _so_ much better to call herself _she_ —follows Robyn up to the roof of the dorm buildings, and they both shout it ‘til their throats go hoarse.

It’s only on their way back down that Marigold freezes and says, much quieter than before and yet _much_ more emphatically, _“Fuck.”_

“What?” Robyn asks. “If it’s your family, I’ll help you punch them.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need help with that.” Marigold pulls her waist length braid over one shoulder and tugs at it apprehensively. “It’s Marrow. I know he’ll support me, he’s a good guy, but… Robyn, he’s as gay as Clover is.”

“Ah.” Robyn bites her lip. “That would be a problem. If things don’t work out with him and you need a new date to prom, you can ask me, okay? Or any of us would be happy to go with you.”

Marigold squints at her for a moment. Eventually, she says, “Are you _asking me out?”_

Robyn grins. “Maybe.”

* * *

The last two years at Atlas Academy—as _May_ Marigold—have been a blast _._ But all good things must come to an end, and it’s for the best. They’re _huntresses_ now. All four of them. 

Unfortunately, there’s not a lot of freelance huntress work in Atlas, not when the military works for cheaper and for longer. Not one of May’s teammates, nor May herself, have become bootlickers and that is something she’s _very_ glad of.

Even if it means that she doesn’t get to see Robyn nearly at all, because she’s gone off to find work in Mistral. Joanna’s staying with her parents, while Fiona is _always_ off on a mission in some far-flung part of Solitas. At least _they_ didn’t immediately make a U-turn after graduation like _some people._

“Cloves is practically guaranteed to get in, obviously, with his semblance and all.” Marrow’s tail wags behind him even as he scrolls down the recruiting page for some elite new military unit. “I think I’ve got a pretty good shot!”

“I bet,” May mutters dryly. She brings up the page on her own scroll, looks at it briefly, and looks up something else instead. “What does Simon think?”

Marrow’s tail stops wagging. “We, uh. Haven’t talked in a while.”

“Really. And you both work for the military?”

“He’s a _professor_ now! I’m just a regular old military huntsman.” The tail starts to move again. “Although I do have a pretty good first-year record, I do believe.”

“Elder nevermore, megoliath separated from the pack, sea feilong gone north…” May audibly tsks. “Don’t need our dear Professor Irmis to tell you what _that_ means. All singular large Grimm? You’re exploiting your semblance.”

“Oh, yeah. Like you wouldn’t do the same?”

“I work _with_ my semblance. I don’t use it to do my job for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Marrow waves a hand dismissively. “I think you’ve got a pretty good chance too, you know! What if these new Ace Operatives need to get somewhere without being seen?”

_ALL HUNTSMEN AND HUNTRESSES WELCOME TO APPLY,_ the advert says. Like non-military won’t immediately be disqualified. Like all huntsmen and huntresses necessarily _want_ to apply.

“Of course I would,” May says, “if I wanted in at all.”

In the end, Huntsman Clover Ebi gets in, although not yet as the fledgling unit’s leader. Huntsman Marrow Amin is thanked for his application, informed that his talents just aren’t what the Ace Operatives are looking for at this time, and encouraged to reapply in a year. And Huntress May Marigold? She wouldn’t want to join their bootlicking anyway.

* * *

Six years since she started at Atlas, under a different name, a different gender, and a wildly different set of expectations placed upon her. 

Four years since she cast the final bits of that aside and embraced who she was always meant to be. 

Two years since graduation, her team’s scattering to the winds, and May being left as one of the only few huntresses in the kingdom who won’t work with the military. 

Even Marrow finally got into that new elite unit on his second try, and since then he’s had a lot less time to hang out with his old friend. Sure, they’re exes and that might be weird, but they’re still friends first, right? Sometimes it feels like no one would actually believe they were either. 

And now? Now it seems her ancient past is trying to push back into relevance – or at least it was, until yesterday. The Marigold name is known in Atlas, thankfully not as infamous as the Schnees, but it still has its fair share of associations. 

Enough that May could hardly bring herself to cast a vote for her own uncle Terence, even if she did – slightly – prefer him for Council over a second term for Camilla. But apparently it was not to be. Still, it’s all the news in this hole in the wall bar is talking about. 

Someone puts a hand on her shoulder, and May instantly tenses. Too often some man tries to strike up a conversation, which invariably ends at the same place. She’s just not in the market for a new partner at the moment, and anyone who approaches her like _that_ is immediately disqualified anyway. At least most of them take the hint, eventually. Those that don’t get told some unwelcome personal information, often followed by a pointed crossbow. 

But it’s not one of those types tonight. May turns around and comes face to face with two women – one of them quite the familiar sight. 

“Robyn? What are you doing back in Atlas?”

Robyn grins. “May! Good to see you again. Can we sit down?”

May gestures to the empty seats across from her. “Of course. Who’s this?”

Robyn and the new woman both hesitate. Looking closer, May sees that this elegant stranger has a wide scar across her face like a burn mark, passing over pink-tinted eyes with mirrored silver irises. 

“Lis,” she says finally. “Just call me Lis.”

“She’s fleeing an abuser,” Robyn explains. “Best not to say too much in public.”

“Well, hello, Lis.” May offers a hand. “But really, though, why come back to this shithole of a kingdom?”

“To be honest?” Robyn smirks as her fingers flicker purple. “I missed our team. Huntress work’s good in Mistral, but it’s lonely. And we figured Lis would be safer here, too, a continent away from her old town.” She glances up at the TV for a moment. “Did I just hear them say Marigold?”

May rolls her eyes. “You must have just arrived today if you haven’t heard. My uncle ran for Council. You know my insufferable cousin Henry? His dad. Polled at sixty percent the day before, and lost. Which means we get four more years of Camilla instead.”

Robyn’s eyes narrow at her tone. “That’s not a good thing? We both voted for her last time. Any other upsets this cycle?”

“One, actually. Viola Auburn finally won a seat. First ever faunus on the Atlas Council, and get this – she’s pushing for antitrust laws to break up the SDC. I’m kind of amazed no one’s tried to kill her yet.” May takes a drink and continues. “Sleet’s still Sleet, of course. He’s been Councilman longer than I’ve been alive. And Camilla… She _sounds_ good, but she made some bad votes these past couple years. Too pro-military for me now.”

“Really? Huh. I always thought one day the General would go too far and she'd turn on him.” Robyn shrugs. “Maybe she still will. Lis and I did see something earlier, actually. Ironwood left to go to Vale?”

“Yep. Those are our three at-large Councilors for the next four years, and the other two are both still Ironwood. Vytal Festival tournament doesn’t start for two months, but he’s taken half the army down there to hang out at Beacon. Can you believe it?”

Finally the silent Lis speaks up. “That doesn’t sound like something a person with his influence should be doing. Sounds like my… my town’s leader, call him that… always heading off to Mistral city for weeks at a time. Every time coming back angrier than the last.”

May gives her a soft smile. She can put the pieces together herself. “He won’t find you here. Although, there’s a thought – do you need a place to stay?”

“Only for a bit,” Robyn answers for her. “Horrid as that man was, he sure paid me a lot to fight Grimm. We’ll find somewhere. But I was actually thinking…” 

May drains the rest of her mug and rests her hands on the table. Robyn’s ideas are usually good, and if it’s a joint mission she’s about to propose, May certainly wouldn’t say no. 

“What if we got the team back together?” Well. That certainly is a joint mission, even more of one than she’d expected. “Fi and Jo still live in the area, right? Lis can fight too, but more importantly, she’s got a pretty useful semblance. I’m not _just_ thinking huntress work, either.”

“Oh?”

“As much of a shithole as Mantle is, it’s still home. We’re some of the only non-bootlickers around, but that doesn’t mean Ironwood can force us out. What do you say we get political, you make a better go of it than your uncle, and we all fight for _Mantle’s_ rights instead of just the rich?”

Now that _is_ an interesting idea. May isn’t too sure about running for office herself, but when have elected officials ever changed anything for the better anyway? It’s direct action that helps people. 

_And_ it might just be a chance to really spite the family that wanted her to disappear, to say their _son_ quietly dropped out of Atlas Academy and moved away. A little spotlight might be just the thing to start chipping away at that gold-plated family name, and to help the people Atlas has forgotten in the process. 

“I’m interested,” she says. “Let’s all head back to my place and get some plans together.”

* * *

May opens the front door of the Happy Huntresses’ shared home and immediately does a double take. “General,” she greets their visitor. “What brings you here?”

General Ironwood looks preoccupied, and even glances behind him as if expecting to be followed. “May I come in?”

She’d really rather _not_ let him in, but it’s hard to say no to someone like Ironwood. And if he’s showing up here alone and unannounced, this might actually be something interesting. May steps back and waves him in, and the General quickly shuts the door behind him as he enters. 

“Thank you. Is Robyn here? I need to speak with her. It’s not military business.” He pauses just a moment. “Not Council business either.”

“Oh?” May raises her voice to call back into the house. “Hey, Robyn, your new coworker James is here!” She steals a glance at Ironwood just to see the expression on his face at that introduction, and he doesn’t disappoint. 

A minute later, the three of them are sitting around the living room, and Ironwood politely declines an offer of tea. 

“Thank you for seeing me,” he begins. “As you know, the CCT is down, hence why I’m here in person and arrived without warning. We’re working on repairs as fast as we can, and when they’re finished, I’m going to need your help.”

Robyn raises an eyebrow at this, but lets him continue. 

“I realize we haven’t always seen eye to eye. You don’t trust me. If I were in your position, I wouldn’t trust me either. But it’s time we put all that behind us. I’m here to tell the truth, and then the moment it becomes possible again, we’re going to tell all of Atlas.”

“About Salem?”

Ironwood nearly chokes on air. “How… Who told you about…” He really does make the _best_ faces sometimes. That perfect combo of confusion and indignation, while completely helpless to do anything about it. Truly a wonderful sight. 

“Why don’t you just tell us what you know,” Robyn proposes. She doesn’t even offer him a glowing hand. 

“Hmm. Well. Salem is the master of the creatures of Grimm. She wishes to destroy the four kingdoms and everything humanity has built, by turning us against each other so the Grimm attack. She was behind the Fall of Beacon. She’s trying the same thing here. Why aren’t you surprised by any of this?”

“Crazy old woman told us in the middle of the last Grimm invasion,” May supplies helpfully. 

_“Maria…”_ Ironwood’s eyes narrow. “So that’s where she disappeared to. I’d ask why, but there’s rarely a reason to be found with her actions. How much did she say?”

“Enough,” Robyn says simply, and offers her hand at last. “So how exactly does leaving Mantle unprotected for so long help fight Salem, exactly?”

Finally, some answers. Ironwood only hesitates a second before taking her hand and telling all about the Amity project. 

When he’s done, he pulls his hand back and looks down at the floor. “This is why I need _you,_ Robyn. To prove to everyone that I’m telling the truth, because otherwise they won’t believe a word.” He sighs, and finally looks up again. “And if you see Miss Calavera again, tell her I’d like to speak with her.”

“She should be back before too long,” May says. “She went out with the other girls. They’re in the tundra, practicing.”

“Practicing?” It’s not _quite_ the same confused Ironwood face as before, but close. 

“Never mind. Though we do have some footage from the last attack that you might want to include in the announcement. Got to wait for them to access it though. Just out of curiosity, what color is Salem’s hair?”

Ironwood seems slightly taken aback at this. “Um… I don’t know,” he admits. “I feel like anyone who got close enough to see wouldn’t survive to tell about it.”

“Not even Ozpin?”

“Maria really told you four everything, didn’t she? Why?”

Robyn only smirks, and turns to speak into empty air. “Hey, Joanna, how’s it going out there?”

A moment later a voice enters her mind. _“I think I’ve nearly got it,”_ Margulis reports. _“Maria’s been a big help. I don’t like not wearing the mask, but if Jo can take your messages while I vaporize Grimm, I guess that works. Everything alright with the General?”_

“We’re fine, talk to you in a bit,” Robyn says aloud, before returning her attention to the General. “To answer _your_ question… she told us because number _five_ needed to know.”

Ironwood purses his lips. “Five? What _was_ that you did?”

“Oh, that?” Robyn gives him her best innocent smile. “Did nobody ever tell you the Happy Huntresses are telepathic?”

There’s that face again.


	26. Part 3 Episode 1: With Enemies Like These

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The CCT comes back online and Ironwood makes his planned announcement. Team RWBY, Watts, and Sienna Khan react. As Grimm return to Atlas and Mantle so soon after the last major attack, both silver-eyed warriors in the kingdom put their abilities to use. Ruby leaves her team to commit even more treason.

_ “I’ve made contact with Cinder.” _

Ruby stares at the words in her scroll. Why is Salem telling her this? Unless…

_ “I know we never really had a deal, but I’m willing to hold up my end of it anyway.” _

A deal beyond their simple trade of information the other day? But Nora is fully recovered now… oh. At their first meeting. Ruby types a message back, just to clarify:  _ “Knowledge for Fall?” _

_ “Yes. You may not have given it to me, but I do have the lamp anyway. If you’d like the Fall magic, that could be arranged.” _

Ruby’s eyes narrow, and she glances over to where Weiss sits against the far end of the bed, intent on something on her own scroll.  _ “Why?” _ she texts back. 

_ “Fair payment for the Relic? I did offer it before.” _

_ “A Maiden is too valuable to give away for free, even if you claim it’s just to be fair. Why?” _ And how? Barring the unusual circumstances attempted at Beacon, a Maiden’s power goes to whoever is in her final thoughts, which means… to have any reasonable chance of controlling it, Ruby would have to be there when Cinder dies. 

And that sounds dangerous. She’s fought Cinder before, or at least been around while her friends fought her. Even with help, beating her – and being close enough to keep her attention as she dies – doesn’t really sound like Ruby’s idea of a fun, safe downtime activity. 

_ “You know exactly how far I’m willing to go for fairness,” _ Salem responds. And then,  _ “But maybe consider it a gesture of goodwill, then? A down payment to show my interest in a peaceful future?” _

Ruby turns to her teammate again. “Hey, Weiss?” 

Weiss looks up from her scroll. 

“If I were to become the Fall Maiden…”

She doesn’t even get to finish her thought. Weiss frowns, and snaps her scroll shut as she slides across the bed to snatch Ruby’s out of her hand. She scrolls up to the top of today’s messages and reads, and doesn’t give the scroll back even after she’s done. 

“You can’t  _ seriously _ think she’s telling the truth, right?”

“I… I don’t know. Whenever I talk to her she seems sincere, but… is she really  _ that _ good at lying?”

Weiss raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t she want to teach  _ you _ how to lie? She must be good at it.”

“Yeah, and she has been giving tips every now and then, but…” Ruby trails off again. “With Ozpin there was always this feeling of, there’s more to this, he’s holding something back. With Salem I don’t get that.”

“So there’s two options.” Weiss lays back on the bed again, and Ruby follows to be at her side. “Either she’s even better at manipulating people than Oz is… or she’s just  _ so _ confident that what she’s doing is right that she’s totally upfront about it and expects people to agree. I’m not sure which is scarier.”

Weiss starts typing a message, and holds the scroll away where Ruby can’t grab it back.  _ “How can we know you’re really interested in peace at all?” _

There is a long pause before a reply comes through.  _ “Weiss?” _

“How does she know?”

Ruby points over her shoulder. “You used ‘we’ there.”

_ “But to answer your question…” _ another message comes in.  _ “Right now, you can’t. You can only watch my actions over the coming years, or decades, or however long it takes to satisfy you. If I can hold onto a Relic – though I’d like several, as insurance – then I would be happy to allow Remnant some peace.” _

_ “But the Fall Maiden is the key to a Relic you don’t have,” _ Weiss points out.  _ “Why just hand that over to your enemies?” _

The answer is simple.  _ “Because an enemy Maiden is better than an unknown. Recruiting Cinder was a mistake.” _

Weiss lays her head back and stares at the ceiling, and hands the scroll back over to Ruby. “I see what you mean,” she says helplessly. “She’s sticking to the story she told you in the beginning. Even admitting we can’t trust her instead of patching in some explanation we could pick apart. No hesitation, perfectly consistent… either she’s  _ really _ good, or…” 

She can’t quite bring herself to finish the thought. 

“I know.” Ruby snuggles closer and lays her head on Weiss’s shoulder, and types with one hand.  _ “This is Ruby again. How do you intend for the transfer to go?” _

_ “I texted Cinder again a few days ago. She doesn’t realize I don’t actually want her back. I can lure her out using you as bait, and when she arrives, we kill her together. Come alone, if possible. Fewer people means fewer chances for Cinder to get her final thoughts wrong.” _

_ “What’s the address?” _ Ruby asks, then shows her screen to Weiss. 

“That is  _ such _ an obvious trap,” her partner responds. 

“So obvious it might not be one.” She puts a finger to Weiss’s lips to silence her protest. “If she wanted to hurt me, she’s had the chance before. I’ll be careful. Look, she wants to meet on a rooftop. No corners to get backed into. And it’s not until this evening.”

“You’re really going?” Weiss sits up, and Ruby follows, still with an arm around her girlfriend. 

“First sign of trouble and I’m out.”

Weiss pulls Ruby into a long kiss on the lips. “Tell me when you leave and I’ll start a timer. If you’re not back in a half hour, I’m taking the queen lancer out to rescue you.” She hugs Ruby tight for a moment, then shoves her off the side of the bed. “Go and figure out if Salem’s for real. Then when you get back maybe you can show us all some magic.” 

* * *

Around the kingdom, screens flicker on. Every street corner news bulletin, every electronic billboard, even personal TV screens so long as they have a subscription to any of the main Atlas news networks. 

It’s General Ironwood’s face on the screens, as it so often is. But this time, he’s not alone. Not with Special Operative Schnee, who sometimes dictates her own broadcasts. He’s standing next to Robyn Hill, the new Councilwoman who dedicated so much of her electoral platform to vocally opposing the General’s actions. 

Now they’re holding hands in front of Atlas Academy’s main entrance, illuminated by the setting sun. Lavender aura shines over the connection and up each of their wrists, and then Ironwood begins to speak. 

“Citizens of Atlas!”

“Citizens of Mantle!” Robyn echoes. 

“We have a message for you.”

“It may sound unbelievable… but I assure you, it is all true.”

The aura around the pair’s joined hands begins to flicker green, just from those introductory words. 

“An ancient and terrible evil lies outside of our kingdom. It was responsible for the destruction of Beacon, the attack on Haven, and for the recent attacks on Mantle. This powerful force goes by the name of Salem.”

In her team’s room, Ruby watches the broadcast on her scroll, as the rest all cluster around. At these words, Ruby’s expression changes from her initial innocent confusion to one of abject horror. “He’s doing it…”

Ruby shoves her scroll into Yang’s hands and stands up to grab Crescent Rose. “Get your weapons,” she commands. “This is going to get bad, fast.”

“Salem seeks  _ only _ to divide us,” Ironwood continues on the screen. The view has zoomed in just on him now. “To turn us against each other. If she can incite hatred in us, we will lure in the Grimm and destroy ourselves.”

Elsewhere, in a workshop in the back room of a Mantle pharmacy, Ozpin sets down his tools. There’s no screen in here but Pietro’s personal computer, but he gets the live feed projected straight into his mind, overlayed on his vision for as long as he keeps focus on the datastream. 

Ozpin rests his head in his hands. “If  _ you _ incite  _ fear _ in the people, the result is the same,” he mutters aloud. “These things are secret for a reason. How many times have I told you, James… we can’t cause a panic.”

He sighs, and picks up a wire and soldering iron to continue building. “I thought you’d learned, when you appointed Penny as a guardian. But you still rely on the army. As with your whole tenure as General, as at Beacon… if this is the size of our defenses, then what is it we’re expecting to fight? That tension is something your army can deal with, but  _ knowing?” _ Ozpin shakes his head sadly. “That will be far worse.” 

But the General cannot hear him, and continues on. “After eighty-two years of peace, war is upon us once again. It always has been: a war behind the scenes while the people live unaware. In this conflict, the Kingdom of Atlas – its army, its security – was meant to be our last, best hope for peace. But with everything done by Salem’s operatives here in recent months, it is now clear that in that mission, it has failed.”

In an alleyway somewhere in Mantle, Tyrian looks at his scroll and grins. His tail waves in the air behind him with excitement, eager for the chaos he can tell is coming. 

“Tyrian Callows and Arthur Watts.” It’s Robyn’s voice now, and the camera shifts to zoom in on her instead. “These are the men responsible for the recent murders in Mantle, the attack on my own rally and on the SDC mines, and even the interference in the election itself. You have already seen their power to cause discontent on a kingdomwide scale. Now we call for unity, just as the General and myself have set aside our differences.”

“This why I was forced to divert resources away from Mantle,” General Ironwood explains, as the view shows them both again, still with green aura surrounding their hands. “I have been building a new communications tower atop Amity Colosseum, toward the goal of uniting all of Remnant against the threat of Salem.” 

The camera zooms in on Ironwood’s face again. “And I am proud to announce that the Amity tower is now complete. It is ready to launch in the coming days, and then the world will join us with a shared voice once again.”

Watching on a hallway screen somewhere in Atlas Academy, the members of Team JNR exchange a glance. Hadn’t they just been on another supply run just the other day? The inside of the colosseum didn’t look noticeably more finished than it had on any of their other trips. 

“But Mantle still needs help,” Robyn takes over for him, “and so the military has agreed to return and protect  _ both _ our cities from the Grimm we know are coming.” She looks away from the camera. “Lis, if you would?”

The image of Robyn and Ironwood is replaced with a Mantle security camera’s view of Tyrian, side by side with a view of Watts somewhere in the Schnee Manor. Their names are printed along the bottom. “Be watchful for these people and report them to any military official, but do not engage them yourselves. These are the pawns Salem has sent to us. Know their faces. Know their names. But even they are not alone.”

The screen shifts again, to another street camera view. The area is bathed in red lights of a Grimm alert, and a single griffon comes racing down the center of the road. There’s clearly someone riding on its back, but the distant, non-tracking camera could not get a good look. 

“Salem is here,” the General warns. “She can turn the Grimm themselves to her control, and if she wins this shadow war, the cost will be greater than any of us can imagine. But with our kingdom united,  _ she will not prevail. _ Atlas may no longer be a symbol of peace, but it has become something new: our last, best hope… for  _ victory.” _

Team RWBY run through Atlas Academy, headed for the airship bay. Ruby still has her scroll open, playing the announcement on audio even if none are watching the screen. “He’s framing this well,” she admits. “But I’m sure the Grimm are already on their way.”

“What does Salem think of this?” Weiss asks. 

“Nothing good, I’m sure. The CCT outage these past few days was her, to stop what Ironwood’s doing right now.”

“Wait, really? How’d she know he was going to?”

Ruby ignores the question and points up ahead. “Look, we’re here. Let’s grab a ship and a pilot and get down below.”

* * *

“The communications tower is finished?” Watts looks up from his workbench in alarm. “How did James get this past me?”

He sets down his tools and takes out his scroll instead, and opens a schematic of Amity Colosseum on its screen. A moment later he has a scan from a week ago overlaid on it, clearly showing the improvements. It doesn’t quite  _ look _ done, but an exterior scan from a distance can only tell so much. 

The mechanical leg on the table in front of him taunts him, so  _ close _ to being completed, and yet still two panels stand open with wires and electronics tangled within. “He couldn’t have waited another week?” he mutters to the empty air. “Even just a few more days?”

Watts stares at his prosthetic, seething with frustration. Now he has to go sabotage the Amity tower in some way to make sure it never flies, never broadcasts, or ideally never does either. Detonating the gravity dust that holds it up ought to do. Everybody who’s ever set foot near the old Shaft 12 crater knows what a gravity dust explosion can be like. But it’s looking like he’ll have to make one with this horrid Grimm claw where his leg should be. 

Gods  _ damn _ those Vox Faunus animals, and damn Jacques Schnee along with them! If not for both of them, he’d never have broken that leg to begin with. He’d never have been forced to walk on a barely-splinted break for miles upon miles through Grimm-infested tundra. Still, despite how disgusting it is to see Grimm attached to his own body, how  _ impure _ and  _ inhuman _ it makes him… he has to admit it’s better than having nothing. 

Though Salem  _ was _ rather hasty to amputate and replace it, while he was still drugged out of his mind to avoid the Grimm. It makes him easier to control. Cinder may revel in the power of her own false arm, but she’s just as vulnerable herself. The sooner Watts can get this thing off of him and walk on a leg of steel and silicon instead, the better. 

And yet… that won’t be tonight. Adapting Ballas’s extra-long arm into a different appendage was simple enough, but why leave it at that? A leg may not have the dexterity and range of movement of a hand, but there’s still a lot he could do with an extra copy of his rings, built in where they can’t be lost or broken. And unfortunately, that all has to be integrated with the movement circuits, so he can’t even just close it up this minute and stick it onto his body. 

Watts stands, and glares in the general direction of Atlas Academy. At least there’s one good thing to come of Ironwood’s announcement: the General’s heart seems to have cost him his mind. With the air fleet pulled back to defend the cities, Amity should be wide open. 

Grimm leg or no, he should be in and out in half an hour, and the military will be none the wiser. 

* * *

“Robyn. Before you go…” General Ironwood catches the two Happy Huntresses’ attention, and holds up his scroll. “I just heard, we’ve found Tyrian. The man who attacked your rally.”

Robyn and Margulis exchange a glance. So soon after the announcement, could they really have one of Salem’s own agents to show as proof? 

“Clover located him, and he’s coming by here to pick up reinforcements. The other Ace Ops are continuing their separate patrols, since it looks like we have Grimm coming in. Clover has offered to bring you along if you’d like to help make the arrest.”

“I would  _ love _ to.” Robyn grins, then turns to her partner. “You should meet back with the girls. I have a feeling this is going to turn into some serious paperwork for the Council once he’s in custody.”

“Oh, of course.” Margulis shrugs. “I’ll see you off, though. Going to be a few minutes until the next shuttle down to Mantle anyway.”

The General sticks around too, dispatching orders from his scroll to send soldiers, robots, and airships alike into full alert. The Grimm’s numbers were thinned just a few days ago, but the tundra and the mountains have a seemingly endless supply. And even if the neutral feeling of uncertainty dominates in the public consciousness tonight, the minority of terror alongside it will be more than enough to draw them in. 

And as a lone airship approaches low over the city roofs, it brings in its wake living proof that the kingdom’s courage in unity that its leaders desired has not yet fully come about. 

A teryx. A big one. An  _ old _ one. One that has learned that just like its own kind, its enemies also hunt in packs, and an airship away from the group is vulnerable. 

But the pilot is skilled, and even as the terys sinks its talons into the airship’s roof and wraps clawed wings around its bulk, he stays in control and lowers the craft gently toward the plaza in front of Atlas Academy. As gently as possible when the airship’s weight has nearly doubled – which is, of course, closer to a slow crash than a quick landing. 

It will have to do. Sometimes skill alone is not enough, and in those times… the pilot is also lucky. Clover bails out of the airship fifteen feet up and rolls as he hits the ground; behind him his ship lands hard and its left wing snaps off at the base. It won’t be flying again any time soon, but as they say: if you can walk away from a landing, it’s a good landing. 

The teryx, however, is also unhurt. A tap of a button on Ironwood’s scroll raises two defensive turrets at the front corners of the Academy building, but their spray of rounds does little more than the handheld weapons being unloaded into the Grimm’s side. 

The General crouches down to brace himself with his metal hand and foot on the ground, and pulls out his second gun – the black one, loaded not with damaging bullets, but gravity dust. With his own body locked in place, the force behind each shot goes entirely into the bullet itself – and into the teryx, pushing it back and buying the group time while the turrets continue to pump out shots. 

But it’s not enough. This ancient Grimm can shrug off a hundred tiny bullets with ease, only a lucky few piercing the tough hide and releasing a wisp of oily smoke from the wound. A single swipe of its barbed tail knocks out the left turret, and Ironwood’s gun is out of gravity rounds to prevent its lunge forward. 

Margulis tackles the General out of the way of the teryx’s snapping jaws. The mask clatters off her head, but that’s none of her concern right now. It could be replaced if need be. But a life? Even that of a man she’s opposed for years – though he  _ has _ been coming around a little lately – as a huntress, that’s something she will fight with all her strength to protect. 

A short yelp comes from the Grimm’s other side. Robyn is over there, and Clover, and a heavy tail bristling with spines. They may need her help too. Margulis gets back to her feet, but before she can turn and help the General up as well – the elder teryx is already here, with claws and teeth descending on them both. 

Can she wedge her clubs vertically between its jaws? That’s worked on smaller Grimm before. Margulis stands her ground. 

But suddenly, there’s a splitting pain in her head, just behind her eyes. Her weapons slip from her grasp as the world turns first white, then black, and Margulis drops to the ground again. 

When she awakes, it’s to Robyn leaning over her, cradling her head in her hands. Margulis blinks a few times and, with help, struggles up to a sitting position. The teryx is gone – or most of it is. A stone sculpture of its back legs and tail remains behind, standing up on the plaza, but the entire front half of the beast is simply missing. 

“Did… did I do that?” Margulis puts a hand to her face, and feeling only skin beneath her fingers, pats around the top of her head for her missing mask. 

“You did. Looks like Maria’s teaching paid off. Good job, Lis, you might have just saved us all.”

Another voice comes from her other side. “We need to get moving before we lose Tyrian.” That’s not Clover or the General. Margulis slowly tilts her head to see… five o’clock shadow? Ruby’s uncle, who works with the military while insisting he doesn’t? 

“Right,” Robyn says. “Lis, you were out for a good ten minutes. Ironwood left for… somewhere, but… We’ve got a new airship already here, and one to take you down to the girls in Mantle too. You think you can manage that on your own?”

“I’m exhausted,” Margulis mutters. “Don’t think I can fly right now.” 

“Oh, no, you’ll have a pilot. As long as you can get on, get off, and not pass out again, you’re fine.”

Margulis manages a nod. “Okay… My mask?”

“Already onboard. And I called Fiona, they’re expecting you. Maria’s going to want to hear about what you did.” 

Robyn has to help her up, but once she’s standing she can walk on her own, if slowly. Whatever this magic light is, it certainly takes a lot out of her to use it. But she doesn’t feel like she’s going to faint again, so she gives a tired wave behind her and staggers toward her ride. 

“Let’s hope our next ship stays in the air better,” Clover remarks as she heads off.

Five o’clock shadow snorts. Just before Margulis is out of earshot, she hears him say, “Not with my luck. Good thing we’ll have both of us.”

* * *

Blake sinks her blade into a sabyr’s neck. Around her, her team is fighting in the streets of Mantle – nothing too serious yet, but this attack is only just beginning. The Grimm dissolves but Blake is already turning away, throwing her other blade toward a new target with her ribbon ready to pull it back again. 

And then her scroll rings. Why now? Qrow isn’t even anywhere near here. 

“Cover me for a bit!” she calls to her team as she glances at the screen. This is one she’s going to have to take. 

She throws her weapons again and hooks it onto a nearby balcony, and swings herself up to relative safety. “Hello?”

_ “Blake. Good.” _ It’s Sienna Khan’s voice on the other end, and she gets right to the point.  _ “You’ve spent some time with the General. What’s he doing with all this Salem business?” _

Of course. Sienna is in Atlas too, and she would have heard the announcement. “Stay calm,” Blake instructs. “I can’t say it’s all under control, but there are lots of people who know more than what the General said, and we’re all doing our best. We might be able to get both Tyrian and Watts tonight.”

_ “But Salem herself is here too.” _

Blake nods, though Sienna can’t see it. “That’s right. I’m not sure what to do about that.”

_ “Because she’s immortal, Headmaster Ozpin has been fighting her for millennia and he hasn’t been winning, and she’s probably just using the Grimm tonight as a cover to steal one of the Relics.” _

Blake’s mouth hangs open in shock. “What?” She blinks rapidly, and finally collects herself enough to actually respond. “How do you know all that?” Blake knows full well that Vox Faunus and the Happy Huntresses have Ironwood’s office bugged, but as far as she knows Sienna has never made contact with either group. 

_ “Remember, I followed your team all the way from Haven. I had to, to stay a step ahead of Adam. I was on your half of that train.” _ But that means…  _ “I saw everything that you did.” _

Everything? In the lamp? 

_ “What is Ozpin hiding from us, indeed.” _ Sienna snorts.  _ “That was quite the experience. What I don’t know is what to do with all that information. I know Salem’s people were manipulating Adam, through an agent the General didn’t mention. Huge man, surprisingly peaceful given his associates?” _

_ “Hazel. He hates Ozpin but doesn’t mind the rest of us. I’m reasonably sure he isn’t in Atlas at the moment.” _

_ “Hmm.” _ Sienna pauses.  _ “Given the situation, I feel like I should help somehow, since I’m one of the few in the know. What’s the plan?” _

Blake hesitates. Her team doesn’t really have much a plan, beyond killing Grimm and protecting the people of Mantle and Atlas. Ruby’s the one with the direct line to their enemy, but even she never mentioned doing anything tonight beyond the standard huntress work. 

Although, as Blake watches from the balcony, Ruby grabs Weiss’s attention to tell her something she can’t quite make out, and then runs off from the group. 

_ “Um… I don’t know. Last I heard, the Ace Ops were going after Tyrian. Not sure about Watts but General Ironwood must have something in mind. Honestly…” _

Would Sienna Khan take offense to being asked to protect humans? Despite her formidable skills, she’s definitely not a licensed huntress. Still, even if her version of the White Fang was more violent than Blake liked, she did always have a good reason for it. Unlike Adam. She might lend a hand to Mantle’s service, just for a night. 

_ “You could always just fight Grimm. Join us, or on your own. Or, if you know anyone in the kingdom, you could help answer their questions and keep them calm.” _

She can almost feel Sienna nodding her head through the scroll.  _ “Alright. There are a few people I’ve been meaning to get back in contact with after my unfortunate death in Mistral…” _

_ “If you really want to get into all this,” _ Blake says,  _ “we can try to meet up once the Grimm are gone. Just text me or Yang.” _

_ “Got it. Well, I’ll let you get back to your huntressing. Good luck tonight.” _

_ “You too, er, High Leader. Talk to you later.”  _ Blake slides her scroll shut and vaults off the balcony, landing right on top of the last sabyr of the pack. A quick slice of her blade and it puffs into smoke, dropping her to the street as her teammates – girlfriends – come running back to meet her. 

“Hey, Blake. Who was that?” Yang throws an arm around her shoulders, and uses the other to punch a bullet toward a distant Grimm. 

“Sienna Khan,” she answers. They’ve all met her before at least once. “Wanted to help with Salem business, but I told her to call back when the Grimm leave.” Blake glances around for their last teammate, but she shows no signs of returning. “Where’d Ruby go?”

“Salem business,” Weiss says simply. “She’s doing another one of her stupid and reckless moves that by all rights  _ should _ get her killed but somehow haven’t yet. She’s got a half hour to pull this off before we all go rescue her.”

Blake chuckles. “Sounds like our Ruby.”

But there’s no time to stop and chat, not when alarms start blaring two streets over. Time to get back to work. 

* * *

Ruby swirls up onto the rooftop in a flurry of rose petals, and lands gracefully on her feet with her weapon in hand. She hadn’t planned on being in the city below when this time came, but it was simple enough to slip onto a transport as it hurriedly shipped stranded residents of Atlas back up to their homes. Directly in front of her, Salem stands in the center of the Atlesian skyscraper’s square top; a little farther back, Cinder begins to smile and pulls at the long glove covering her Grimm arm. 

Salem has her hair up in that same ornate style that Ruby was shown briefly at their first meeting, the same way Emerald blasted into her mind at Haven, now tied up with black ribbons holding the ends in place. Combined with the red-edged black robe and the red veins over her arms and face which are no longer concealed, it’s clear she’s making no effort at all to hide her identity anymore. They’re in the middle of the city – but on top of the tallest building in the immediate area, no one can get a close look at any of the people meeting there. 

“It’s so nice of you two to meet me here together,” Salem begins, striding forward to put an equal distance between her guests. “Now, maybe someone can help me decide… Which one of you should I kill today?”

Cinder startles and her single eye goes wide. “Your Grace,” she begins, and takes a step forward only to hesitate and go down on one knee. Ruby merely steps back slowly, avoiding drawing attention to herself as she finds the roof’s edge again, ready to flee if it starts looking like this visit was a trap. 

“Your Grace,” Cinder starts again, “You said you would lure the silver-eyed girl here so I could have my revenge… to settle this matter now, so that I may return to your complete service without distraction.”

“I did say that,” Salem confirms. “And is it not exactly what I have done? I won’t stop you from attacking Ruby, if you so desire. Likewise, I told her that I would lure  _ you _ out so she could take  _ her _ revenge. The question is, which of you should I support? Who do I think can be more helpful to me in the future? Because clearly I can’t have both.”

Ruby stands silently, thinking. That isn’t exactly what Salem had texted her earlier. There had been no mention of revenge from either herself or from Salem. Ruby takes a deep breath. She still  _ wants _ to believe that Salem was telling the truth, both just now and before, about Cinder being a rogue agent who was no longer welcome at her side. 

“I have served you faithfully for years,” Cinder says. “If this is a test, then simply tell me what you wish and I will prove my loyalty to you.”

“I  _ wished, _ ” Salem emphasizes the past tense, “for you to report back after your stunning failure at Haven. I wished for you to take some  _ responsibility _ for that failure. Did you know that Hazel tried to cover for you? I didn’t let him, because that wouldn’t have been  _ fair _ , now would it?” Suddenly she turns to stare at Ruby. “And you know how much I value fairness.”

Salem’s eyes flare red for a moment as she turns again and raises one hand with fingers curled upward. Grimm arms with viciously clawed hands burst from the ground all around Cinder’s kneeling form, pulling her down to prostrate herself even further before her Queen. Ruby lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. It seems her enemy may be on her side tonight after all. 

“Your Grace, I…” Cinder struggles against the hands holding her down, but makes no progress. “It was my fault at Haven,” she shouts, suddenly showing the anger that until now was kept just below the surface. “I failed to defeat the Spring Maiden! I will  _ not _ fail with Winter! Is that what you want?”

Salem doesn’t answer her, and instead looks back to Ruby. “Not taking your chance to strike while your enemy is restrained?” she asks. “How honorable of you. She wouldn’t do the same.” To Cinder, she says in a soft but vaguely threatening voice, “What I want is a Fall Maiden whose priorities I know, whose actions I can predict. If I wanted a blindly loyal killing machine, I have Tyrian for that. But when it comes to vault keys, dependability is more important than loyalty.”

Cinder finally realizes why her nemesis was brought here. Not as a gift, or even a bribe to buy back her service. Not even as bait, though it’s bait she already took. This silver-eyed girl who had stopped her at Beacon, disfigured her body, burned her again at Haven, she is to be given the magic that Cinder had worked so hard to acquire. 

Cinder’s eye flares with orange fire and a burst of magic rips through the Grimm arms restraining her. “How dare you throw away your most valuable servant?” she yells at Salem. “After everything I’ve done for you! Fine! It’s about time our positions were reversed!” 

She punches forward with her left hand, black skinless arm extending far beyond its proper length, aiming to sink into Salem’s chest where she could siphon power from the witch and be done with this troublesome master once and for all. 

Salem catches her wrist. 

Finally Ruby springs into action, sprinting forward with her scythe held low. She passes Salem and pivots to swing upward and cut cleanly through the long arm, unprotected as it is by Cinder’s aura. The wrist and claw dissolve into black smoke while the rest shrinks back to Cinder’s side and writhes in the air, reshaping itself to grow back its complete form in seconds. 

Salem’s eyes glow red once again and she clenches one hand into a fist in front of her. Cinder’s arm is paralyzed, no longer under its owner’s control, and with a quick movement of Salem’s fingers as if throwing something to the side, the whole thing vanishes into a cloud of ash. It does not regrow itself again. 

“Do not misuse the gifts I gave you,” Salem warns. 

Cinder clutches the stump of her left arm and seethes in pain, but after a brief moment takes her hand away and thrusts it out to her other side. A cone of orange light flashes from her palm and motes of the same brilliant color form in the air all around and float downward into the space she indicates. 

Ruby and Salem both stop and stare as the motes cluster and join together, building up the outline and image of a young woman made entirely of yellow-orange aura. A woman with short hair and a long staff in her hands, with a darker scarred region over the left side of her face. 

“You thought my semblance was turning dust into glass?” Cinder shouts, seeing Ruby’s confused face. “Any Maiden can do that! I can stop the dead from departing this world! Store their souls to fight again!”

The woman beside her forms completely from the last few motes of light and blinks, finally able to move on her own. The previous Fall Maiden. The one Cinder had stolen power from, then later killed to take the rest. She glances around the rooftop, and then immediately tries to stab the crystal tip of her staff into Cinder’s side. 

The point stops six inches away, held there despite all her effort, while Cinder only laughs. “My summons fight  _ for me, _ ” she gloats. “After all that time spent haunting me, commenting from the back of my mind on everything I do and see, it’s about time you made yourself worthwhile.” She points at Ruby and Salem. “Amber, kill them both.”

The two pairs split: Amber runs toward Ruby, while Cinder focuses her efforts on fighting her former master. Amber’s eyes are glowing just the same as Cinder’s, showing that through their connection she can still draw on magic from the same source Cinder had stolen from her, but presently she is still choosing not to use it. 

The staff that would have been wood and crystal strikes against the middle of Crescent Rose, and Ruby hurriedly alters her weapon’s form to rotate the blade in line with the shaft and shorten it overall, transforming the scythe into a staff of her own. The wicked hooked blade is good for fighting Grimm, but people require something less unwieldy – even people whose entire bodies and weapons are made of solid aura. 

“I’m sorry,” Amber says, even as she presses her attack and drives Ruby back a step. “I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I can’t disobey her! Please, don’t hold back. I’m already dead!”

“What  _ is _ that?” Ruby asks. She flashes into rose petals for just a moment, flying in two groups around either side of Amber, and reforms behind her to strike at the former Maiden’s legs. 

“Everyone she kills, she – she pulls them into her own head. Over a year now I’ve been spectating the world through that madwoman’s eyes.” Only now does Amber finally release a small burst of magic, a gust of wind from the bottom of her staff. A white crystal had once rested there and its physical form remained, but only as aura in its shape, without the power of actual dust. 

Ruby tumbles back and sticks her own weapon into the rooftop to stop her movement, ending up with the glaive tilted and herself standing with one foot atop its end and the other farther down its length. She flips backward to yank it out of the roof and lands back on her feet with weapon in hand. 

“Everyone?” Ruby asks, with notes of both hope and desperation in her voice. “Do you know a girl named Pyrrha?”

Amber nods solemnly. “I saw her fight, just after Cinder killed me. But I can’t talk to anyone directly except Cinder.” She glances to the side to see a stray fireball from either Cinder or Salem nearby, but makes no attempt to dodge it. It splashes against her side and knocks her down, but she stands again and keeps her focus on Ruby. “She still has nightmares about Pyrrha,” she says. “We all get them. But afterward I often hear her yelling at someone named Tessa instead.”

Amber sighs and shakes her head, and renews her assault. “I don’t want to stay like this. You have to kill me. I’ve seen a summon before, a woman with short hair and claw blades – she survived that battle and now she’s still here. If you kill me now,  _ maybe _ I’ll actually be free!”

A short ways across the roof, Salem overhears her plea and spares a moment to send a wide bolt of pink lightning from her fingers directly into Amber’s chest. The spectral Maiden flies back and crashes against the low rim around the edge of the rooftop, and Ruby breaks away from her to join the fight with Cinder directly. 

Cinder has a glass blade in her one remaining hand, striking relentlessly at Salem and pushing her back in a slow circuit around the battlefield. Salem has a similar blade of her own in one hand and holds the other out empty, blocking with flashes of light from her palm. She’s doing a lot more blocking than anything else, really – it’s clear even to Ruby’s first cursory glance that Salem is not particularly proficient with swordplay. 

Ruby swirls into rose petals again just to decrease her own size, and slips between the pair. She reemerges with a spin and forcefully separates them, earning herself a beratement from Cinder for getting in her way before the rogue Maiden leaps back into the fight. 

“Amber, stop holding back!” Cinder commands. “Use your full powers to fight, and avoid taking unnecessary damage!” The order comes a little late, as Amber has already lost a third of her aura strength while doing fairly little to Ruby, but from this point onward she cannot abuse the same loopholes. 

Amber rises into the air with her arms held out wide. “My power is your power,” she shouts. “So I’ll gladly drain it as fast as I can!” Wind swirls fiercely around her in a narrow column rising high into the sky. It widens as it rises, and slowly the entire layer of thick, dark clouds over Atlas begins to rotate along with it. 

But as threatening as the slowly forming storm above appears, it leaves Amber motionless in concentration. As long as Cinder’s order for her to kill precedes the order to survive, she has the ability to fight recklessly, and she takes that gambit to the fullest in the hope that Cinder’s enemies will not have to endure the Fall Maiden’s full power for very long. 

Neither Ruby nor Salem spare her any thought. Both are busy with Cinder, Ruby now up close with her blade while Salem stands back. Crescent Rose is back to its full length with the handle extended all the way and blade still tilted to align with the rest, giving Ruby the freedom to stay a little farther out of Cinder’s reach. 

She soon finds the downside to this as Cinder throws a fireball into her stomach, and her weapon is too long to spin in her hands as a shield without striking the ground. Ruby is knocked down, but not a second later another fireball shoots back the other way to strike Cinder through the space Ruby had just vacated.

Both pick themselves up, and Cinder screams in frustration. Her glass sword shatters in the air and the shards fly toward Salem, but divide around her and scatter over the edge onto the street far below. 

Cinder tosses what looks like a small fireball over Ruby’s head. Considering it a miss and ignoring it turns out to be a mistake, as a column of flame suddenly jets down from above and Ruby drops to her knees in shock and pain. Cinder leaps forward with both feet lit up like rockets, a larger ball of magic in her hand ready to slam into her nemesis – and Ruby is still off balance, stunned after her two strong hits. 

Before she can even think about escaping in a flurry of petals, a hand reaches over her shoulder and a shimmering red barrier springs up between her and the oncoming assault. Cinder’s intense fire fizzles out on its surface, and then the barrier itself detonates outward to release that same energy back at its source. 

Suddenly a deafening boom of thunder rolls over the group and everyone pauses to look up at the sky. Above them is a gigantic circle of wind, gray with dust picked up from over the city, and through the center can be seen a rare view of a twilight blue sky flecked with the first few stars. Lightning flashes from the tornado’s edge outward to strike the Atlas CCT tower a second time, and then from its other side to one of the narrow spires standing high above the edge of the city. The explosion at the tower’s tip is visible even miles away, and the upper ring of public transit supported by hard-light dust flickers and dies. 

“Oh… that’s going to draw attention. Maybe shouldn’t have left Amber alone quite so long,” Salem mutters to herself. 

Salem holds her hands out toward Amber and puts her thumbs and index fingers together to form a triangle at arm’s length. The space in between fills with color, at first a deep violet, brightening over time through shades of purple and lavender until it becomes a blaze of almost white. 

“Amber, move!” Cinder’s command is, once again, not specific enough. 

Amber floats slowly to the side and Salem tracks her easily. A lance of blinding light tinged only ever so slightly with lavender shoots from between her hands and strikes Amber squarely in the stomach. The ghostly Maiden is thrown back under the magic’s impact and the beam continues beyond her as far as the eye can see, still firing. Salem moves her arms together to follow her flight and manages to trace the beam across Amber’s body twice more before she falls out of sight between the buildings. 

A few more crashes sound in the distance as the shorn-off corners of buildings that got in Salem’s way fall to the streets below. The beam is still firing continuously as if incapable of stopping, and so Salem points it up at the sky. She cuts across the funnel cloud from below, and only then does the mile-long spear of light finally go out. 

A blur of yellow-orange shoots up from one of the streets far below. Amber, flying just like Cinder habitually does, with flames spewing behind her from her hands and feet. She only slows a little before extinguishing the magical fire and crashing back down onto the rooftop again. 

Wind in all directions buffets the group and particles of dust and dirt begin to fill the air as the tornado above dissolves, no longer maintained and reinforced by magic. All attacks are put on hold for a moment as everyone covers their faces, until finally Salem erects a sphere of translucent hot pink around the entire rooftop to shelter the battle from the remnants of Amber’s storm. 

Amber’s eyes are still glowing orange, but she charges at Ruby without a hint of magic active. Ruby blocks a flurry of hits from the phantom staff and gets one solid strike in of her own, and Amber levitates briefly to avoid falling down. 

Behind them, Salem effortlessly turns away a rain of fireballs with a single hand and raises her other with a new purple glow. She throws the pulsing ball of energy from her hand and it arcs across the roof, seeking Amber even as she moves away. It explodes in a burst of bright violet light, and when Ruby’s eyes recover from the flash she sees Amber slowly picking herself up from the edge of the roof again. 

Ruby charges forward and channels her momentum into a swing of Crescent Rose. It strikes Amber’s midsection, but instead of throwing her back against the low rim at the roof’s edge again, the scythe blade passes straight through with only the slightest resistance. Amber’s entire body and weapon flicker as her aura breaks, and then, disconnected from any physical body to hold her, her yellow-orange form fades and vanishes into nothing. 

Though her ghostly form made it hard to tell for sure, Ruby thinks she saw a hint of a smile. 

Cinder crosses the roof in an instant and stares into the empty space. “How  _ dare _ you kill my only Maiden?” she yells at Ruby. “My best summon! You’ll pay for this! Both of you!” She launches a spray of fire and glass and follows up with a whip of pure magical energy from the stump of her left arm, and even Ruby’s best block with her scythe can’t catch it all. 

She skids back and comes to rest at Salem’s feet, and to Ruby’s surprise, the witch helps her up. She spares a glance at her scroll: aura strength at forty-nine percent. Not great, but at least they can both focus on Cinder alone now. 

Another compact fireball streaks toward her just as she is regaining her feet. It blazes white-hot and Ruby lurches to the side to avoid it, only to realize too late that it was never meant for her at all. 

Salem’s hand is ripped from hers as the blast makes contact. Ruby’s mind goes blank, wiped clean by the shock, filled now with just a single pure thought unsullied by details or conditionals.  _ Her teammate just went down. _ All logical knowledge is suspended and the only thing Ruby can think is that someone who was fighting alongside her has been hurt. And when that happens, as it has too many times before, Ruby has but a singular desire: to protect them. 

Her entire body flushes with heat and her face in particular feels like it’s burning. She looks up at Cinder, the perpetrator again, the same person who had hurt so many of her friends before. In a rush of release all the heat and tension in her body disappears, and her vision goes white. 


	27. Part 3 Episode 2: Who Needs Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby and Salem conclude their fight with Cinder, while Tyrian and Watts both find themselves captured. The White Fang gets a surprise. RWBY and the Ace Ops are called back despite the Grimm, but Vox Faunus and the Happy Huntresses are ready to fight in their place. Ironwood shoots a child.

Something strikes Ruby from behind. A sharp jab barely missing her spine, hard enough to sting but not enough to damage her aura or do more than stagger her forward. It is, however, enough to break her concentration and bring new thoughts into her previously focused mind. 

The white light pouring from her eyes shuts off. With vision now restored, she sees Cinder on her hands and knees at the far end of the rooftop, breathing heavily, with a wisp of smoke rising from her upper back where a magical tattoo was just erased. 

A voice comes from behind her and Ruby turns to see Salem there, a little worse for wear with the right side of her hair undone and three spikes of the brace underneath now visible. She looks  _ almost _ apologetic for having shot her protector in the back. “It’s touching that you care so deeply about my wellbeing to do that on my behalf… but I’m afraid I can’t allow you to use silver eyes here.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ruby replies. “But thanks for letting me know it would work.”

“It wouldn’t kill me.” Salem shrugs. “But it  _ would _ hurt, and it would inconvenience me until I made a trip back home.” She raises her hands to rejoin the fight, but another thought occurs to her. “Besides, it would hit me twice as hard as Cinder anyway, for reasons I’m sure you know. So, please just use your  _ normal _ weapons in this fight.”

Cinder staggers to her feet and somehow manages to look even more furious than she had been already. “I should have killed you at Haven!” she screams. “I should have killed you at  _ Beacon! _ You and all your pathetic little friends!” She shifts focus to stare at Salem. “Why won’t  _ you _ kill her? If she’s just as dangerous to you too?”

Cinder waves her one arm in frustration and a small burst of fire spreads to her right. “Have you been plotting against me this whole time? When you told Tyrian to bring her in alive, I thought that was a gift. To let me be the one to kill her! But no, you wanted her to replace me even then, didn’t you! This magic rightfully belongs to  _ me _ , you understand that? And I’ll take yours too!”

There is another burst of fire and Cinder jumps into the air, levitating with multiple concentric rings of flame slowly rotating around her body. She rips off the cape over her left side and grows a tendril of magic from her shoulder, not quite an arm, more an orange tentacle that looks like it might extend at least as far as the old Grimm arm could. 

Salem lifts off as well, with only a faint red glow around her ankles. Ruby shifts her weapon into full sniper mode, since clearly she won’t get a chance to use the blade anymore. But as the two trade blasts of color and energy back and forth over her head, both in constant motion, Ruby realizes that she’s probably not going to get a clear shot out either. 

Time to try something a little unexpected. Ruby transforms Crescent Rose back into scythe form and watches just a moment longer, then activates her semblance. She flies up with rose petals trailing behind her and emerges from her hood just above and behind Cinder, now freefalling but perfectly in line to hook the blade around Cinder’s waist and pull the trigger. 

The recoil catapults her forward just over Cinder’s head and she flies upward again, putting some distance between her and her foe to preemptively avoid the blast of fire she knew was coming in retaliation. Another powerful shot sets her spinning in the air as she drops toward Cinder again, but the Maiden jets out of the way and Ruby has no way to change course except to cancel that line of attack. 

She flies in short bursts of her semblance all around, chasing Cinder and dodging her fire, and trying to stay out of Salem’s way as well. Ruby has to admit, her enemy turned temporary ally has a much better variety of magical attacks in much prettier colors, and were it not a matter of life and death she might have gladly stood back to watch from a distance. Salem moves much less in the air but when she does she appears graceful and controlled, unlike Cinder riding her rocket-engine hand and feet. 

But Cinder’s wild flight serves to her advantage in avoiding the wide arcs of teal, the fuchsia beams and dark red bolts, even the glittering silver net that once sprang from Salem’s fingertips and caught only air within. Only her lightning with its pinpoint aim finds its mark more often than not. 

The vast swathes of fire sent out by Cinder don’t seem to affect Salem at all, although whether she’s taking the hits on aura or simply relying on immortality, Ruby can’t possibly tell. She’s too busy trying not to fall to her death between these skyscrapers to pay a whole lot of attention to her ally. 

Until, of course, that ally seems to be in danger. Cinder manages to wrap her long magic arm around Salem’s waist and pulls her closer, real hand already lighting up with flame, and even Salem’s point-blank blast of violet light does nothing to break Cinder’s grip. Ruby folds her scythe without attacking and puts it away, and swoops down with her semblance to intercept the pair instead. She emerges for just an instant to grab Salem’s arm, and then swirls back into hooded form, trailing rose petals in both red and black. 

“What the… Gods, that feels weird,” Salem says after Ruby lets her go. “You know, I don’t really  _ need _ the help.”

Ruby makes another short burst upward and replies as she drops back past the witch. “Sorry, I guess I’m just in the habit of being nice.” She sticks her tongue out at Salem and laughs. 

That moment of inattentiveness costs her. A fireball streaks across the empty space and explodes into Ruby’s side, and in the seconds it takes her to recover and reorient herself, she’s already fallen a good distance down from the fight. Should she fly through a window of one of these tall buildings and rest? Should she try to climb back up directly and pay the cost of such a long flight? 

A flash of pale yellow comes from below and suddenly Ruby feels a pair of arms wrap around her. Her entire vision blinks through the same shade of yellow for a brief moment, and then she finds herself unceremoniously dropped onto the roof of the same building where the group had originally fought. 

“Clearly  _ you _ do need help,” Salem says. “You’re in over your head here. Just leave, if you want. I can shout your name at the moment she dies.” With that said, Salem teleports back into the sky to resume the fight. 

Ruby takes a moment to rest anyway, now that she’s on solid ground again. She watches the fight from below and aims her sniper rifle, but still isn’t confident she could hit Cinder through her rapid movement. But then something catches her eye from the side and she glances over, and almost drops her weapon in shock. 

An airship is approaching their position. Just one broken away from the fleet, coming to investigate the strange occurrences over this part of the city, but one is still more than they can afford. There are two people here using magic openly, and after the first tornado in the kingdom’s history had nearly touched down over this same spot, Ruby  _ really _ doesn’t want an investigation launched by people not in the know. Or at least, she doesn’t want to be around when that investigation happens. 

What are her options? Warn Salem and try to call off the fight? Then at best, everything returns to how it was before, at worst they both vanish and she’s left to explain everything by herself. Finish Cinder off quickly and run? There’s no telling how much fight she still has in her. Try to stop the airship? As unpleasant as it sounds, that might be her best option. 

Ruby waits for it to get just a little bit closer, then zooms upward to intercept it, emerging from her semblance a short distance in front of the airship. She waves her arms frantically to get the pilot’s attention as she drops down, uses another quick burst of petals to gain altitude again, and gestures for the ship to go back where it came from. 

The ship slows. Ruby pulses her semblance on and off in rapid succession in an attempt to maintain a constant height, while signing with arms and legs both and doing her best to convey the idea that these people should not come any closer. After a while she does seem to almost hover – maybe it’s just her perception a little off? Maybe the airship is keeping pace with her somehow?

No, she’s definitely hovering. Ruby looks down and sees her hooded cape wrapping forward around her waist and spiraling around her legs, longer than it has any right to be… except no, it’s too narrow near the bottom, her legs couldn’t fit. And there are rose petals streaming out beneath her in a steady flow. Somehow, her semblance is active halfway, in a newly evolved form. 

The airship’s side doors slide open. Ruby can’t see the pilot through the windshield but she nods, and flies forward to land just inside the main bay. She collapses to her knees, out of breath, and is quickly met by the airship’s copilot standing in the doorway of the front cabin. 

“You need to turn around,” Ruby pants. 

“What’s going on? Identify yourself.”

Ruby fishes in her pockets for her scroll. “Ruby Rose. I’m a Huntress. Atlas graduate.” It’s a slight lie, but that  _ is _ what her ID card shows. 

The copilot relaxes a little and waves her forward into the front. “Alright. What is this, and why do you not want us here?”

“Because you’re out of your depth,” Ruby replies. “For your own safety, I have to recommend you leave at once.”

“Young lady, we are the Atlesian air force. There’s nothing in this world that’s too much for this fleet to handle. I only see two people out there. Even if their armaments are impressive.”

“That’s Cinder Fall out there!” Ruby snaps. “The one who caused the Fall of Beacon. Did you see that tornado earlier? That was her. You think this ship could survive another one of those?”

The copilot seems a little less sure of himself now and looks out the front at the two women fighting in the sky. “Cinder Fall is the number one most wanted person in the world,” he says finally. “It’s the Atlas military’s job to apprehend her.”

Ruby gives a short, bitter laugh. “Oh, there’s no apprehending here. This is a fight to the death. But fine, you want to ignore my advice and try to help, you can shoot her down.”

The airship’s pilot immediately puts one hand on the weapons array. “Which one’s the target?” he asks. “Other one’s with you, I’m guessing.”

Ruby sighs. Both Cinder and Salem are dressed in black, and both are producing stunning displays of power. “Cinder has black hair,” she says. “Don’t attack the one with white hair. Can you see that from here? Cinder is the one with the orange whip.”

The ship speeds up again and moves to the side to get a better view of Cinder. The copilot sits back into his chair and types into the small computer in front of him, identifying Cinder as a hostile target and trying his best to acquire a lock-on for the weapons systems. There is a rumble from both sides as the turrets activate and their triple barrels start to spin up, and then the pilot is steering with one hand as he holds down the trigger. 

Sixteen high-caliber rounds per second spray out to blanket the area around Cinder, and despite the shield of magic and flame she throws up in their path, a few still find their target. The airship tracks her movement and she flies around to put Salem in the bullets’ way, but she knows she can’t hide behind her enemy’s shimmering red force field forever. 

Cinder channels more power into her rockets and zooms out from her shelter directly toward the airship. She passes overhead faster than the ship can reorient itself, and there is a loud crunch from the left before the computers go wild with alerts and the airship suddenly tilts to one side. 

Ruby jumps up between the two soldiers’ seats and spins around to face the door. She grabs each by the arm and without even thinking about the effort or aura cost, activates her semblance to fly out the side hatch, now tilted almost directly up toward the sky. Her swirl of red flanked by gray-blue on either side drops down to the tall skyscraper not far below, and there it collapses back into three people all tumbling across the roof to lay flat on their backs. 

“Never carried two people at once before,” Ruby says as she stands again and checks her scroll. Aura is down to fifteen percent after a few more hits and heavy use of her semblance. “You two, get out of here  _ now. _ There’s a door right there. Get inside where you’re safe, then report to General Ironwood. Him directly, he’ll want to know. Tell him Cinder is here.”

“Yes ma’am. Will do.” Both look quite shaken now after their ship was destroyed so easily. Inside clearly does not mean completely safe, as the severed airship wing sticking out of a neighboring building can attest, but at least they could be out of the direct line of fire. 

The pilot puts his hand on the door handle, but stops. “What about you and your friend?”

“Not important! I’m Ruby, that’s… never mind, just  _ go! _ ”

There is a crash from the other side of the roof as Cinder lands hard, pulled by her long magical arm. Twin fireballs streak across the space and Ruby leaps in front of the soldiers to block one with her weapon, and the other with her body. 

Crescent Rose flies from her grip and clatters across the roof to rest by one edge. Ruby too hits the low wall hard, and dark red aura flickers and cracks across her body. She dives out of the way of another fireball, thankful that the soldiers at least have disappeared, and hears a second crash from Cinder’s direction. 

By the time Ruby has her weapon in hand again, Salem is back to solid ground as well, and she takes full advantage of Cinder’s fixation on finishing off Ruby. She strides across the roof and bats one fireball off course with a wave of her hand, and grabs Cinder by the neck. Salem lifts her up at arm’s length, magic enhancing her strength, and Ruby plants a sniper round into the side of her head. 

Cinder screams and her own aura flickers and dies. She struggles and grabs Salem’s wrist with a burning hand, but cannot break free. Finally her long orange whip-arm extends again as motes of light condense behind Salem, forming a greatsword of black glass. Cinder wraps her magical appendage around its hilt and plunges the blade down into Salem’s back. 

Salem drops her at once and falls to her knees in pain, and Cinder jumps back to float just off the side of the rooftop. Ruby runs forward and aims her sniper rifle, but neither she nor Cinder can get a good shot on the other, and soon both look again to Salem as the witch slowly forces herself back to her feet with the wide blade still piercing through her body. 

“I’m sorry, Cinder,” Salem manages. “But I’m afraid there’s something I neglected to mention before. Namely, that  _ I cannot be killed. _ Not by anything in this world, and certainly not by  _ you. _ ”

Ruby hurries to Salem’s side and a spherical barrier goes up around the two of them, protecting them from a hail of magic while Ruby carefully draws the glass blade out of Salem’s back. There is a long gash in Salem’s dress, matching on back and front, but beneath it no sign of injury. The blade dissolves in Ruby’s hands, returning to sparkling motes of light. 

Cinder sees her master unhurt even by that fatal stab and drifts back a ways further. Salem is immortal, really? That seems a little far-fetched, even for someone familiar with magic and Relics. But the evidence is right there: somehow, Salem survived what would have killed a normal person like Ruby, or Cinder herself, or maybe one of Ironwood’s precious Ace Operatives. 

Even with Ruby vulnerable, she can’t risk sticking around. Not if one of her targets can’t be killed. Cinder is defenseless now too, and while she can still turn away magic or bullets with her own abilities, it would be all too easy to miss a single one. She needs to lay low and take out Ruby another time. And now that all her bridges with Salem are burned, maybe she can do away with that smug doctor and his demented friend too. 

Cinder’s feet light up with flame again and she jets away over the city, flying backward at first to make sure she dodges the handful of sniper shots that come after her, then turning to speed off into the distance. 

“Are you okay?” Ruby asks, folding her weapon and sheathing it across her back. “That looked like it hurt.”

“It still does,” Salem pants, holding a hand over the phantom wound in her front. “I’m immune to death, not to pain. But it doesn’t matter. I need to go after her.”

“No you don’t, not like that. We both need to rest. You can fight Cinder again some other day. Besides, she has too much of a head start now. She could hide anywhere in the city.”

Salem sighs heavily. “Well that was quite the failure,” she says. “How is it that Cinder loses to you, she loses to the Spring Maiden, yet she comes out alive from fighting me?” She paces back and forth along one edge of the roof. “I’m out of practice. I should be able to match a Maiden, especially one missing an arm.”

Ruby is silent for a long moment and frowns, staring out at the city lights below, but finally turns back to Salem. “I think I misspoke before,” she says. “Or at least, I implied something I shouldn’t have. When I used my silver eyes earlier, it  _ was _ accidental. It happened automatically because I saw someone get hurt, or at least, I saw something that would have hurt a normal person. But I  _ am _ glad it happened.”

Salem raises one eyebrow. 

“All life has value. Even yours. I know you do terrible things and I still want to stop you, but you are also a living person and some things are absolute. I can’t make an exception. Not even one. Not for anything. If I compromise that, I compromise everything it means to be a Huntress. And so just as I’ll use my silver eyes in defense of all those you might wish to harm, I have to also use them in defense of you… even if you don’t need or want the help.”

“You know, Ruby…” Salem sighs again. “You sound a lot like Ozma. The original, I mean, before hundreds of reincarnations changed him into what you see today. I knew there was a reason I liked you. It’s a shame we aren’t on the same side, you and I. Imagine what we could achieve, if we worked together more often.”

Ruby is pretty sure that was a compliment, though if she’s remembering correctly, Salem did also murder the original Ozma. Or at least, the only once reincarnated Ozma. Still, she doesn’t seem inclined to murder Ruby at the moment, so that’s a good sign. 

“Thanks, I think. But no thanks. Not unless you swear off killing and start working to make Remnant a better place.” Ruby glances up at the sky. “We need to get out of here. They’ve sent more airships.”

“So they have. I suppose you think I  _ shouldn’t _ shoot them down?”

“Absolutely not. You can teleport, right? The way you saved me that once. Thanks for that, by the way. Now you can get us both out before the military arrives and starts questioning us.”

Salem rolls her eyes, but holds out a hand. “Front door of Atlas Academy?”

That’s not where her team is, but she can text them to say she’s safe. And with her aura down, she should really sit out a while anyway to recover, as much as it pains her not to help against the Grimm below. But effective teams need communication too, and her friends certainly deserve to know how it went – and that Cinder is still out there. 

“Alright. Thank you.” Ruby takes the witch’s hand, and the world vanishes into soft yellow light. 

* * *

“Getting bad out there.” Cressa Tal frowns across the table. “Might have to cancel tonight’s op. The distraction’s nice, but not if we’re letting innocent people get killed. Ray, Lonee, you checked on the kids?”

Ray Coal snaps his scroll shut with a loud click. “Neon and Flynt are with their team, “ he pronounces. “They’ll handle themselves.”

“Guess it’s just us, then. Grab your weapons and we’ll–”

A knock comes at the door. Loud, and insistent. Cressa freezes, and gestures for one of the others to go answer it. 

Lonee Katt gets up first and makes her way through the abandoned dust shop to what  _ should _ look like a barred entrance with nothing of value behind it. She opens the door to see a single figure waiting outside: in a red cloak, hooded, with fluffy ears poking out the top. 

“Look, I don’t know the current passphrase,” the visitor says, “but Cressa’s going to want to see me.”

So whoever this anonymous visitor is, she knows this is the White Fang hideout and she knows who the current leader is. But she doesn’t look military, so maybe this is a good sign after all? 

As the hood comes off, Lonee’s eyes widen and she goes pale and speechless like she’s just seen a ghost. Because, as far as she knew until now, that’s exactly what stands before her. 

Sienna Khan is alive? 

“Um, yes, of course, High Leader,” the cat faunus stammers. “Come inside. We — we thought you…” She trails off and calls farther back into the building instead. “Hey, Cressa! Good news!”

Cressa and Ray have the exact same reaction upon seeing their guest. “High Leader Khan…” Cressa begins, then hesitates to give a quick bow of respect. “It’s an honor to see you again. Especially since…” Her eyebrows lower in thought. “Blake Belladonna was here,” she says, remembering who it was who had brought the news, “and she told us all you were dead.”

Sienna only smiles. “As I instructed her to. There was some business I had to attend to before making contact with the White Fang again.”

“We were just about to head out and fight Grimm,” Ray volunteers. “But it sounds like there’s a story there, so I suppose the military can take them for a bit longer.”

“Quite a story indeed.” Sienna pulls out a chair and everyone takes a seat around the table. “Did Blake tell you Adam Taurus staged a coup against me?”

A round of solemn nods gives her her answer. 

“He believed he had killed me. He was wrong. I went to Menagerie to help the Belladonnas rally and train a faunus militia, which then followed Adam to Haven and put an end to his assault there. Adam escaped but lost his followers, and the Mistral and Vale branches were effectively shut down.”

“What happened with Adam?”

Sienna grimaces and lets out a breath through her teeth. “He went chasing after Blake. Apparently there was more between them than I’d known about – enough to make any woman’s blood boil. Blake was heading to Atlas, I wanted to come here anyway to rebuild, so I followed her and we fought Adam together in Argus.”

She looks down at her hands clasped on the table. “He had an accomplice then, a human. We thought we killed them both, or at the very least got Adam, but… Unknown to either of us, the human’s semblance swapped bodies, so Adam escaped again. In the end, it was actually the Happy Huntresses who took him down, after he attacked one of their members.”

“And now that he’s out of the way, you can come back to us,” Cressa finishes for her. “Makes sense. Never did like that guy.”

“I know. Even with no news from Atlas, I knew his extremism would never get a foothold in  _ your _ White Fang. I regret ever giving him the authority I did.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you back. Got some more immediate concerns though, you probably passed them on the way here?”

Sienna laughs briefly, and nods. “Yes, the Grimm. Kind of hard to miss them. They’re here as a distraction for Salem while she steals something from the Academy up there, just like Beacon and Haven.” She glances around the table. “You don’t look too surprised at that.”

Lonee shrugs. “We’ve heard enough crazy shit tonight, what’s a little more? I trust Robyn Hill and I trust you. What’s the plan?”

“There’s a lot of security cameras in this city. I trust you’ve got a good few of them hacked?”

“Of course we do.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less. Now, that fellow Tyrian from the announcement, he’s a faunus. The Ace Ops are on his tail – literally, he’s a scorpion – but if he manages to give them the slip, we want him to come to us. We find out where he is, then show him a nice, welcoming safehouse with his own kind. Then we turn him in.”

Ray raises a hand, and Sienna stops to let him speak. “You and Cressa are both known. If we call the cops, won’t they arrest all of us too?”

“Maybe. Doesn’t matter if they do. Little Belladonna’s got friends in high places with the military. And, don’t ask me how I know this, but… Ironwood is wiling to pardon just about  _ anything _ if it helps him fight Salem.” 

Cressa grits her teeth. “Got to say, that’s a risky plan. But we’re with you all the way.”

“Good to hear it. If the military’s competent and does their job, they won’t need us. But we all know the military’s track record, so let’s get ready to clean up their mess.”

* * *

_ This isn’t what Amity is for. _ The thought circles through Ironwood’s head, over and over, as he and his once-friend Arthur fight. This place is full of delicate electronics and dust, and a single damaged part could be catastrophic for the future of humanity. 

Except… for decades, this is  _ exactly  _ what Amity was for. It was built as a colosseum, designed specifically for the toughest fighters of each Academy, and the delicate electronics of its biome system, at least, are well shielded. Most of the new CCT is on the roof anyway, out of the way of anything but an unlucky stray shot. 

Of course, with his aura down and Watts’s gun to his head, there’s more to worry about right now than a  _ missed _ shot. 

“I suppose in this instance, my brains and your brawn are evenly matched,” Watts gloats. 

How many shots did he fire during their fight? At least eighteen, Ironwood knows that much. But it’s hard to keep track, when he has to count his own ammunition at the same time. And he’s running out of time to respond. 

“You’re smart,” he admits, “but you’re not the only one who can count.” Hopefully he really did fire all twenty, and this attempt at calling the bluff will work. 

The guess pays off. Watts casts his empty revolver down by his side, and both pause to catch their breath for a moment. But then, before Ironwood can even react– 

“Oh, I know,” Watts says, with one of his characteristic smug grins, and he grabs Ironwood’s left arm to lever him around and shove him back into the same metal strut he’d just had Watts pinned against. With a fizzling sound of hard-light dust, suddenly his arm is trapped, stuck through a thin blue wall that  _ squeezes _ and  _ burns _ and  _ tears _ as he tries to pull himself free. 

Watts wanders off, staring up at the equipment in the ceiling, and Ironwood can do nothing but pull. Even if every millimeter hurts. But he’ll be damned if he’s going to let brains win this fight. 

The pain doesn’t matter. The future of his only remaining non-metal arm doesn’t matter. All that matters is stopping  _ her _ , and he will sacrifice whatever he has to. So, with a monumental effort, he drags his arm free, inch by agonizing inch. 

“What?!” At the sound of Ironwood collapsing to the floor, Watts whirls around. 

He gets only one speechless second before Ironwood’s good hand is around his neck and he’s lifted and slammed to the floor. 

Brawn may have taken the advantage over brains once again, but Watts does get a little more time to think as he’s being pushed across the width of the colosseum floor. He brought the bag with him to Amity, as he’d been asked to always do, so in the event he  _ is _ defeated the next plan can take effect. But as much as he hates having to rely on  _ this _ to save him, he won’t let this fight be over yet. 

Watts kicks off his boot and extends the Grimm talons beneath. His leg bends upward, opposite how a human knee should, and he sinks his beastly claws into the exposed flesh of Ironwood’s damaged left arm and  _ rips. _

This, finally, is enough to make the General cry out in pain. His legs buckle beneath him and he drops to his knees and elbow, and rolls off to Watts’s side. The scientist wastes no time in pouncing on him, turning the tables once again so that Ironwood lays with his head off the edge of the platform. 

Watts strikes first, a punch with his left hand – the one whose rings are still intact, and more solid than his fingers – directly into Ironwood’s face. Maybe it will give him a bruise just like Watts’s own. But before he can follow up with the other side, Ironwood retaliates with a fist of solid steel. 

“What  _ are _ you?” Ironwood cries as he scrambles to sit up. “You let her do that?”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my choice,” Watts grumbles as the pair wrestle and exchange blows. “But if you need a new arm, I’m sure she’d be happy to provide…”

Even as Grimm claws tear across the metal right half of his back and into the unprotected left, Ironwood pushes through the pain. It’s Watts’s one inhuman limb against Ironwood’s two, and no matter what it costs him, he will  _ not _ let one of  _ her _ people win. 

Even if it means neither of them leaves here alive. If that’s what it takes, so be it. Ironwood came here prepared to  _ sacrifice. _

* * *

“So my cousin’s working for the one behind Beacon,” Ticker says.

“You… don’t sound surprised,” Thursby observes. “But he was disguised?”

“The other kids told us a while ago,” Eudico says with a shrug. “Just me, Ticker, and Biz know… although I guess that’s most of Vox at this point. Seeing as you two shouldn’t be here—”

“If you don’t let us help, we’ll go help somewhere on our own, probably get ourselves killed, and then you’ll feel even worse.” Roky sounds a little too smug. “Of course, we  _ wouldn’t _ get ourselves killed, but if pretending we would is what it takes to get  _ someone _ to let us help them?”

“White Fang still said no,” Boon says. “Guilt-tripping doesn’t work particularly well on Cressa.”

Despite the situation, Eudico smiles wryly. “You thought it  _ would?” _

“Not really. Still worth a try.”

“He has a point, even if I don’t agree with their motive.” Biz clears his throat. “There’s still the issue of what, if anything, we’re doing with regard to Tyrian Callows. Is there any chance of him believing we’re still on his side?”

“Probably not,” Ticker says. “If he thought he could trust us, he would have been more open from the start. Maybe even tried to recruit us for this Salem lady.”

Biz makes a gagging noise. “And I for one would have put a stop to that  _ very _ fast. He was working for her when I was still headmaster—”

“Headmaster?  _ What?” _ Legs looks confused. “Did I miss something? The f—”

Biz clears his throat. “Shade Academy, long time ago, doesn’t particularly matter  _ now _ does it? It is, unfortunately, rather likely that should we encounter Callows again, he will not be as friendly—”

“Him?  _ Friendly?” _ Eudico points out.

“My basis for ‘friendly’ is ‘not actively attacking us.’ For him, that’s as friendly as it gets. We need to be prepared for that to change. More concerningly, we need to be prepared for the military to draw a connection between our group and Salem because of that, if they haven’t already.” 

“You can’t be serious,” Ticker says. “Okay, no, you definitely  _ can _ be serious but… hey, LD. You probably know the military better than the rest of us.”

“I got  _ expelled, _ remember?” Little Duck doesn’t look up from her scroll. “Sure, I’ve broken into Ironwood’s office a few times—”

_ “That’s _ your definition of a  _ few _ times?” Biz raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, more than a few. Gets easy after the first ten, and it’s not like it mattered because he  _ still _ wouldn’t give me my license.  _ Or _ do anything about the SDC.” 

“You still have interacted with him more recently than I, and interacting with him  _ at all _ is more than anyone else here can say. What do you think?”

“I’m a  _ little _ busy here, give me a sec…” She opens a new window on her scroll and makes a pleased noise.  _ “There _ we go. The team going after Tyrian is almost certainly Councilwoman Robyn herself, Clover Ebi, and… huh, don’t recognize that name. Must be some new military huntsman or something.”

Eudico peers over her shoulder and supplies, “That’s Ruby’s uncle, he’s the one who brought down Profit-Taker’s shields in Atlas for us. But that says they’re assigned to fight Grimm? And where’s Robyn?”

“They’re not fighting Grimm. Everyone  _ else _ assigned to Grimm duty in Mantle is in groups of three or four at least, not two. Sure, they  _ could _ just be that good, but they’re assigned to Sector 17. There’s already another team in the area assigned to fight Grimm. And, not coincidentally in the slightest… guess who  _ else _ is in the area, conveniently listed as on a solo assignment?” 

“Robyn Hill?” Thursby guesses. “She fits the bill.”

“And anyone who knows the military’s will and has some critical thinking skill will know she’s going in for the kill,” LD says a little too cheerfully. She high-fives Thursby before continuing, “The military knows Tyrian is there and they’ve set a trap. And it’s one that Watts is going to overlook and not warn him about, because for all his hiding behind technology and  _ supposed _ genius, he can’t see something this obvious. Even if he could, he’s going to be distracted with Amity.”

“Forget Watts,” Ticker mutters. She raises her hands defensively. “Hey, I doubt he’s got another spidery murderbot hiding anywhere, and we’re on the record as fighting  _ against _ him. Got an entire broadcast to prove it, filmed and edited by yours truly. If the military can’t handle him, we can track him down later.”

“Or I will,” Biz says with a pointed look in the kids’ direction, because they look a little too excited. “You’re asking if we think the military can handle Callows?”

“Pretty much.”

“For all Ironwood’s... many,  _ many _ flaws, using too  _ little _ force isn’t one of them. Robyn would have a decent chance against Callows alone, just because of her range and versatility. I can’t say I’ve ever met Ebi in person, but he’s clearly skilled despite his semblance. Third person would have to be on that level too. You said… Ruby’s uncle? I wasn’t aware…”

“Some guy named Qrow?” LD supplies.

“Qrow  _ Branwen?” _ Biz’s eyebrows, which had been steadily descending throughout the course of the conversation, shoot back up so fast it’s a small miracle they don’t fly off his face. “Well then. Skill won’t be the problem. Surprised he’d be able to work with a high-up military operative like Ebi. Then again, before that announcement, I would have been as surprised if not more to see Robyn willingly working with Ironwood.”

“So we don’t need to worry about my newest shitty relative,” Ticker guesses.

Biz frowns, and shakes his head. “Odds are that we won’t have to, but we  _ should _ be prepared. Just in case.”

“Hey, hate to interrupt your serious  _ adult _ stuff,” Roky cuts in with a roll of her eyes, “but what you said about him not trusting us anymore. You know what I bet he  _ doesn’t _ know? That you lot are hangin’ logical with the Fang.  _ We _ didn’t know until Legs told us.”

“Which definitely was yesterday and not the day after Profit-Taker,” Boon adds unconvincingly.

“Definitely, yep, no need to sweat,” says Thursby, who may or may not be visibly sweating himself.

“...right. Sure. Okay. Not a bad idea, I’ll give you that.” Eudico doesn’t sound very convinced, not on the timing front, but she pulls out her scroll anyway. “I’ve still got Cressa’s number from before… well, before a lot of things actually. I’ll give her a call.”

* * *

“No offense, Maria, but you should have at least  _ one _ of us with you.” 

The old lady in question glares at May and taps her cane on the street. “I haven’t survived this long just to die to a few little Grimm like these!” she pronounces. “Go off and hunt happily. I’ll be fine!”

Joanna shakes her head. “I’m not letting Lis’s new teacher be in any more danger than absolutely necessary. I know we can’t stop you from fighting, but… please, just stay with the group, okay?”

Maria’s goggles show no change, but if she could, she’d be rolling her eyes. 

“Wait…” From her spot sitting on the Happy Huntresses’s front steps, Margulis raises one weary hand. “Maria… how long until I’m back to normal again?”

All she gets is a shrug. “Heard Ruby passed out for days after her first time. You’re doing better than that. Don’t really remember my own debut, been too long and the light became too natural.”

Margulis groans. “I hope it’s not too long before I can help fight again.” She rests her head with its heavy mask in her hands, but continues to speak. “Also, something else you should probably know. I was watching the camera in the General’s office, and he hasn’t gone back there after the announcement. But someone else did.”

“Someone we know?” Fiona asks. 

“I hope not. They’ve got some kind of shapeshifter semblance. Left some chess pieces on Ironwood’s desk, stared out the window for a bit, and left. Maria, you said this Salem woman has operatives here – could that have been one of them?”

Maria just shrugs again. “I only learned about her recently myself. Don’t know any of her people except the one who blinded me – and I killed that one. Whoever’s here now, I couldn’t say.”

“I bet I know who might,” May says. “Vox and those kids. Only number I’ve got is Ticker’s, but that should work.”

May pulls out her scroll, and as she steps off to the side, Fiona and Joanna look at each other. “We should probably head out and start fighting,” Fiona says. “Maria, you can come along, I guess, since I  _ know _ you won’t stay home and out of the way.”

May gives them both a silent nod of acknowledgement, and returns to the scroll. 

When she finally puts it away, Fiona, Joanna, and Maria are long gone. “Ticker’s staying home like a sensible person, but apparently her  _ cousin _ is one of those agents the General warned everyone about? And we’ve got a different Vox person on his way. You feeling any better, Lis?”

“A little? Head still hurts, but I could probably swing a club.”

Margulis stays sitting on the steps, and turns inward to send a message through her semblance.  _ “Robyn, how’s it going?” _

_ “We’ve arrested Callows,” _ comes the response, muttered softly into her bodycam.  _ “How about you?” _

_ “Fi and Jo are out fighting, May’s with me. Waiting for someone from Vox to get here. We might have a lead on a different one of Salem’s people.” _

_ “Alright. I’m with five o’clock shadow and his Ace Ops boyfr–” _ Robyn’s voice suddenly turns to a hacking cough, probably to avoid the two sharp glares thrown her way.  _ “Keep it up. We’ll meet back home when it’s all over.” _

Margulis and May both look up at the sound of an airship. It comes in flying low over the rooftops and stops, backs up slightly, then very gently lowers itself between the buildings to land perfectly on the intersection by the Happy Huntresses’ home. The doors slide open and a moment later a middle-aged man sticks his head out and waves them over. 

“Ticker said she wanted to send you some help? Come on!”

“Vox has an  _ airship?” _

“Technically, no,  _ I _ have an airship. From long before my time with Vox. We’re headed up to Atlas, right?” The man pulls Margulis and May aboard and motions them both into the front cabin. “Name’s Bishop, by the way. People call me Biz. I’ve dealt with Salem before.”

Margulis pops a small piece off of her mask and plugs it into the airship’s dashboard, and the weapons targeting screen is overwritten with a video display. “Here’s who I saw in the General’s office. You run into her before?”

The video shows a Special Operative enter unaccompanied, and furtively glance behind her as the office door shuts. Once satisfied she’s alone, ignorant of the spy camera behind the General’s desk, sparkles shimmer over her body and she becomes a significantly shorter woman holding an ornate parasol. She sets two small glass objects on the edge of the desk, then moves behind it to look out the window. 

“That’s all she did. No attempt to access his computers. Just left those things, they look like chess pieces to me, and then left after a while.”

Biz nods. “Chess pieces are an old symbol. The black queen. Salem used it on me when I was forced out of Shade Academy. And remember, just before the CCT went dark in the Fall of Beacon, that transmission during the tournament? It started with a black queen icon.”

“Then what’s the other one? Can’t get a close enough look at it from this viewpoint.”

“That, I don’t know. But maybe we’ll all find out soon.” Biz takes his eyes off the screen to pay attention to the controls again, and the airship carefully lifts off and flies away over the roofs of Mantle. 

* * *

The hideout door slams shut behind Cinder as she enters, fuming with latent rage. She flops down in a chair and brings out her scroll, staring at the empty aura meter on its main screen, then tosses it dismissively onto the table. 

Neo appears on feet as silent as her lips, and gives Cinder a questioning look as she puts on an illusion of Ruby. 

“Even worse than I expected,” Cinder answers, and looks away. “I don’t know why I even went.”

Neo shifts her semblance from Ruby into Salem. 

Cinder slams her fist on the arm of her chair. “Take that off! I never want to see that face again.”

She’s met with a single raised eyebrow, but the illusion does fade. Neo stands unmoving, waiting to hear the full story. 

“Salem lied to me,” Cinder spits. “She said she’d deliver Ruby so I could kill her and return to her side. And what happened when Ruby showed up? They fucking teamed up against me! Salem’s recruited  _ her _ to replace me!” 

Neo’s eyes widen, and she takes a half step back. But a moment later she returns, and gives a pointed, incredulous look. 

“Yes, really! She wants to make  _ Ruby _ the next Fall Maiden.” Cinder conjures a small flame in her hand and stares into it. “Any loyalty I once had to her is gone. We’re on our own, but with the two of us? We can take the staff before she does.”

An illusory pen and pad of paper appear in Neo’s hands. 

“You left the chess pieces in Ironwood’s office? Exactly as I specified?”

Neo nods. 

“Good. They will  _ terrify _ him. Your job now will be to find the children. Losing  _ any _ of them will break Ruby’s will. Kill whoever you run into on your way.”

Neo smiles cruelly, and keeps the expression even as her appearance shifts into a perfect copy of the Protector of Mantle. She gestures with one hand toward Cinder, and waits. 

“My part? The moment I’m ready to fight again – which is sooner than Ruby will be, I know that much – I’m headed for the Winter Maiden.”

Neo marches forward a few steps and gives a skeptical look toward Cinder’s left side. 

Cinder sighs. “Yes, you can see it’s gotten a little more difficult. Without my arm I’ll have to inherit the power, rather than siphoning it directly. But I don’t need it to fight. I’ll take out whoever the military sends, if they even get there in time, and then Winter will be mine as well. I’ll text you when it’s done, and we can meet up at the vault.”

Neo curtsies, and retrieves her parasol from the coatrack by the door. Her disguise shifts into an unfamiliar face in an Atlas Special Operative uniform, and she slips out into the night. 

* * *

General Ironwood sits facing away from the door as eight huntsmen and huntresses enter. He stares out the plate glass window at the air fleet, in silence. 

“General?” It’s Harriet who speaks up first. There are still Grimm outside, survivors from the first attack returned for the fear the General’s announcement brought, so why have the Ace Ops been called back?

Ironwood turns around in his seat. “We have made a critical error,” he says gravely, and points toward a pair of small figures at the edge of his desk. “The black queen was the symbol Salem showed us before we lost everything. Her way of telling us she was inside. That it was too late.”

“We stopped Watts.” He gestures to the large bag at one side of his desk. “We stopped Callows. But we were so preoccupied with  _ them _ that we forgot about  _ Fall.” _

Ruby steps forward to examine the chess pieces on the General’s desk. “Black glass…” She nods. “This was her. But… have you moved them at all?”

Ironwood shakes his head. 

“The black queen is knocked over. With a black bishop behind it. When Cinder left these, she didn’t know that Salem can’t be killed. She wants to overthrow her and take control herself.”

Ironwood stands, but does not move from his spot. “How do you know that? How long have you known Cinder was here?” He clenches his uninjured metal hand into a fist. “I just received a report from two pilots who say you saved their lives. They say you were fighting Cinder yourself, just an hour ago, alongside someone else. A woman with white hair, who wore black.”

Ruby moves back in line with her teammates, avoiding Ironwood’s eyes. “That’s correct,” she says neutrally. “We came close to defeating her.”

“Who were you fighting with? Not Weiss, from the clothing. The pilots said she was matching Cinder’s abilities. Did you bring the Spring Maiden with you from Haven?”

“I… I’ve been asked not to say. But it’s someone who wants Cinder dead as much as all of us do.” She glances over at her team, and Weiss gives her a reassuring smile in return and takes her hand. “Think of it like the video that helped Penny. Some people may be willing to work with us on one thing but not others, but we can still use their help.” 

Ironwood scowls, but does not press the subject further. He turns to Watts’s bag and paces slowly behind it. “Arthur Watts is dead,” he announces. “He came to sabotage the Amity tower. He was unsuccessful.”

“You said in your speech that it’s ready to launch,” Blake says. “Was that true?” 

She and Yang meet each other’s eyes, then look to Ironwood. The General stays silent, and turns halfway around again to stare out the window. 

“No…” Yang realizes softly. “You just said that to lure out Watts.” 

Ironwood crosses in front of his desk and sweeps up both chess pieces, and crushes them in his metal hand. When he speaks again, it’s to Weiss. “I sent your sister to claim the power of the Winter Maiden.”

“What?” Weiss’s eyes widen. 

“When I realized we’d been compromised, I knew we couldn’t wait any longer. The staff and the lamp have to be locked away.” 

The lamp? Of course… Nobody had found the courage to tell him they’d lost it. 

“What are our orders, sir?” Harriet stands at attention, ready as always. 

“We are going to take the plan for Amity… and apply it to the city of Atlas.” Ironwood turns his glare from one edge of the room to the other. The Ace Ops look back, emotionless, while in front of them Team RWBY are astonished. “If we use the staff to raise ourselves high into the atmosphere, we will be out of reach of whatever Salem sends at us. The city’s artificial climate will keep all of us, and our food stores, completely safe. Not even the Council can stop it, once I declare martial law.”

Everyone’s attention is on Ironwood, and so nobody notices as to the side, Watts’s bag squirms. 

Blake’s voice shakes as she challenges him. “What about Mantle? The wall is still broken and they’ve barely even recovered from the attack last week! Can you imagine the fear if people saw Atlas abandon them? In the middle of another ongoing attack? You’d be condemning the whole city to death!”

Ironwood does not look away. “Yes… I would.” Somehow, he’s okay with that. “This is our best chance to keep the Relics safe.  _ That _ is what is important. We are saving who we can. The people of Mantle will–”

Ironwood flinches and draws his pistol as red tentacles explode out from the bag on his desk. A jellyfish Grimm, floating in the air at the side of the room. Watts had a  _ Grimm _ in that suitcase? And he carried it all the way back from Amity, not knowing? 

“General Ironwood.” A soft female voice emanates from the jellyfish’s bulb. 

Ironwood backs against the far wall, gun pointed at the Grimm. But before he can fire, the glassy sphere cracks on its own. Tentacles squirm and coil inward, and the jellyfish drops out of the air, cracking further and releasing a thick black smoke from its interior. 

A figure forms in the smoke. A human, her pale face streaked with scarlet veins, white hair tied up in an elaborate bun. From the waist down she remains a phantom of smoke, but above she wears a simple dress in the same inky color of the Grimm’s remains. 

“Black clothes, white hair,” Marrow mutters from the back of the room. “Is that…”

“So you’ve bested Arthur Watts.” The apparition of Salem floats a little closer to Ironwood. “You were patient, determined, and strong. Well done.”

“We stopped Tyrian too,” Ironwood manages to get out. “And we’ll stop Cinder, or Hazel, or anyone else you send at us.”

“Tyrian…” Salem raises one eyebrow. “Are you sure? He’s known to be quite… resourceful.”

“My best operative has him in custody. I can order him killed at any moment.”

“But you’re waiting for a better time? You  _ know _ time is not on your side, James.” Salem turns to look out at the assembled audience. “Nor is it for any of these mortals. Unless…” Her gaze fixes on Ironwood again. “You were to hand over the staff to me.”

“That’s  _ not _ going to happen.” Harriet has found her voice again, and immediately the phantom swoops over to stare her down. 

Salem gives her a soft smile. “I have never  _ enjoyed _ bringing death… not even to those who choose it. Simply accept the futility of your situation, and this can  _ all _ be over.”

Ruby looks up at her with a defiant glare in her eyes. “Shouldn’t it  _ already _ be over? That is, if we can believe you about your intentions.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me, Ruby?” Salem backs off from Harriet and returns to the front of the room. “Because from where I’m standing, it certainly seems like you do.”

“My team–” Ruby throws an arm around Weiss. “–has been fighting against you from the moment we learned of your existence. You destroyed our school. You tried to have me kidnapped!” 

“And look how far we’ve come since then.” Salem gives an encouraging smile to her as well. “You willingly met me in person with no backup. You trusted me with your life – or at least with your vision. You accept my word about the present. Is it so much of a stretch to take it about the future as well?”

The phantom lowers until it’s at eye level with Ruby. “Because you understand where so many others haven’t… What do you do with an enemy you can’t fight?” 

Ruby hesitates, without an answer. 

In an instant, Salem turns away from her and surges across the room to come face to face with Ironwood. “You stop being enemies!” She ignores the gun raised at her and backs away again, but only slightly. “Surrender the staff and I can leave Atlas alone. We don’t have to fight. Haven’t your people suffered enough? All because of  _ your _ rule…”

“You may test our loyalty all you like,” Ironwood spits, “but it  _ will not falter! _ Atlas will  _ continue _ to stand strong. Now get  _ out _ of my kingdom!”

“It takes real courage to demand such a thing of me. I’m impressed.” Salem turns to address the whole room again. “And I  _ would _ call your devotion noble, if I didn’t know all too well what dear Oz really wants with the four Relics. So it would seem all of  _ you _ have a choice.”

She spreads her hands and takes up a centered position in front of the General’s desk, ignoring Ironwood off to the side. “I’m sure by now Ruby has told you all what she saw in the lamp. All Ozpin’s talk of unity is for an ulterior goal. Ironwood is a fool for trusting him. I would know… Once upon a time,  _ I _ used to trust him too.”

“So,” she continues, “knowing what you do, can you really still work with someone who’s kept so much from you?”

Yang’s eyes widen and she stares up at the phantom. “My  _ mother _ said all that to me…” she realizes aloud. 

But before her eyes, the form of Salem is wreathed in smoke, and dissipates into an empty office once again. 

“…And she was right,” Weiss finishes the thought. That same warning Raven gave them both, the one they’d refused to heed at Haven, turned out to have been correct. 

The whole of Team RWBY pivots to look at Ironwood. “All this time I thought you were our ally,” Blake accuses. “All this time you were hiding who you really were: a man who would let his  _ fear _ overcome him and abandon the people who depend on him for safety.”

“And we  _ won’t _ help you leave Mantle to die,” Ruby says defiantly. 

Ironwood keeps his pistol out as he stalks forward, but holds that hand behind his back. “You would accuse  _ me _ of concealing who I am? I remember the first time you set foot in this office. I went to grant your huntress license only to find you already had one. The Atlas registry doesn’t  _ have  _ glitches, and you’re not on the same team as Jaune and Ren so it  _ couldn’t _ have been a slip-up. The only way that could have happened… is if you had Watts hack in for you.”

“The only time any of us ever met Watts, he was trying to murder us with a giant spider robot.” 

“Convenient, then, that you and he all survived. Almost like it was staged by Vox Faunus, a group that didn’t  _ exist _ until your teams showed up here – on an airship you  _ stole _ after destroying military property in Argus, no less. How do I know you weren’t in those mines by choice?”

Ironwood brings the hand with his gun out from behind him, and his finger traces over the guard around the trigger. “And I saw the way Salem looked at you. How long have you been with her?” 

“I’m not! I never have been!” 

“It’s clear now you were fighting  _ alongside _ her against Cinder,” Ironwood says in a low voice. “Who  _ also _ conveniently escaped, after you destroyed not just an airship, but  _ half the city’s public transit. _ So let me ask you all again:  _ how long  _ have the four of you been working for Salem?”

Ruby fumes, but stands her ground. “We are  _ not _ helping her. I keep telling her that!” 

“That’s not helping your case,” Elm pipes up from behind the team. 

Ruby looks over her shoulder at the Ace Ops. Vine is expressionless as always, and Marrow won’t meet her eyes. Elm and Harriet glare at her, barely bothering to conceal their disdain. 

No support from them, then. They’re content to be complicit in half a kingdom’s death. But Team RWBY isn’t  _ completely _ alone. 

Ruby pulls out her scroll, and flashes into rose petals to zoom around Ironwood and over his desk. She slaps the scroll face down on the desk’s electronic surface and hurriedly dictates a message to the whole of the armed forces. “Ironwood’s lost it! He’s going to declare martial law and use the staff to move Atlas. He’s leaving all of Mantle to die! We have to stop him before–” 

The transmission is cut off with a shot from Ironwood’s gun. Ruby is knocked to the floor, suddenly thankful she had at least a little time to rest after her fight with Cinder, and before she can stand again, a second shot shatters her scroll and sends the pieces flying off the desk. 

Ironwood has his own scroll out now, even as three huntresses train their weapons on him. “I’ve sent out an alert to all military forces,” he announces. “All of you can join your friend Callows in jail.”

He pushes between Weiss and Blake and heads for the door. They keep their weapons in hand as they watch him go, while Yang breaks from the line to help Ruby. 

“We won’t just let you take us,” Ruby snarls as she returns to her team. 

“I know.” Ironwood looks back over his shoulder. “And, Ace Ops?”

Harriet salutes. “Yes, General?”

“Use lethal force if necessary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	28. Part 3 Episode 3: Trust Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrian makes a mess of things, but only after Clover started it. A second airship joins the one he crashed. Cinder brings out a different summon. Something dies in the tundra. With luck, it will only be some respect.

_“Ironwood’s lost it! He’s going to declare martial law and use the staff to move Atlas. He’s leaving all of Mantle to die! We have to stop him before–”_

And two gunshots. 

Robyn and Qrow both stare at Clover. Did he just hear what they did? Is he going to do anything about it? 

“That message came from the General’s desk…” Clover says. 

“Sent by Ruby,” Qrow adds. “What’s James done now?”

Robyn puts a hand to her weapon, but doesn’t yet bring it out. “If he wants martial law, we can _not_ let him.”

“Miss Hill, I’m sure the General understands the enormity of such a decision–”

“Those shots,” Qrow interrupts. 

Clover looks down. “Sounded like the General’s gun.”

“Which means _he shot my niece!_ Are you just going to _help_ him with whatever harebrained scheme he’s pulling?”

“I’m sure he didn’t—” Clover’s scroll buzzes and he opens it to look. Beside him, Tyrian grins. Clover’s expression darkens, and he stands to cross the airship bay and hand his scroll to Qrow. “You should know, I’ve been asked to bring you in.”

Qrow reads the alert. “Suspected of working for Salem? Wanted dead or alive?! You can’t really think I’d work with _this_ guy, right? Come _on!”_

As Qrow throws up his hands in bewilderment, Tyrian giggles. “Ooh, this should be good! A free ride and a show!” 

“What have the kids gotten themselves into this time?” Qrow sighs deeply. “Jimmy really _has_ lost it.”

Robyn stands as well. “He’s trying to stop anyone who gets in the way of his inhumane plan.” She brings out her crossbow. “The Council won’t stand for this. He’s underestimated me for the last time.”

Clover draws his weapon as well. “You’re not part of the alert. Please don’t make me arrest you too.”

Her _too._ That means he _is_ going to arrest Qrow and carry out his orders. Robyn’s eyes narrow and she pulls back a bolt. “You heard Ruby. If you want to overrule the Council and leave _my_ city to die, you’re going to have to kill a Councilwoman first. Mantle is _not_ going down without a fight.”

She shoots. Clover deflects her bolt and returns with his own attack, and on the sidelines Qrow just sighs heavily as he stands and takes out his sword. 

“Do I _really_ have to be the mature adult here?” he says to no one in particular, before sighing again and shaking his head. “Both of you, stop it.”

That failing to do anything (unsurprisingly, but worth a shot) he physically steps between them. His semblance intensifies with a thought. Clover’s hook goes wide, if not as much as he’d like, and lands somewhere near Tyrian instead. Robyn’s next bolt sticks in her crossbow, and she mutters something about both of their sexual habits that Qrow pretends not to hear.

“Did you both forget,” Qrow says emphatically, “that we’re on an _airship?_ That is currently _flying?_ In the sky, in the middle of another Grimm invasion, which may I remind you are _attracted to our negative emotions?”_

Exasperation probably counts as a negative emotion too, but Qrow can’t help but feel it now.

“You’re right,” Robyn admits. “But this isn’t over. Hey, pilot? Take us down to Mantle. Order of Councilwoman Hill.” She doesn’t take her eyes off of Clover to do it.

“That is disobeying a direct order from General Ironwood,” Clover tells the pilot himself, still glaring at Robyn. “Who, might I remind you, Councilwoman Hill, holds _two_ Council seats. Take us straight up to Atlas.”

“Ironwood didn’t give _that_ order, _you_ did. Take us gay down.”

Clover takes a moment to process this, sighs heavily, and says, “Take us gay _up.”_

There’s no response from the pilot, but the ship does begin to turn downwards. Sharply downwards. Clover finally looks past Robyn, and his eyes go wide. He charges—but not for her. Qrow turns himself just in time to see a _tear_ in the divider separating their section of the airship from the pilot’s, Clover shoving his way through it…

And most importantly, _no sign of Tyrian._ No sign except manic cackling that erupts from the cockpit as Clover leaps backwards. The airship tilts further, and Qrow might not know shit about flying an airship but he _knows_ this isn’t good.

“What are you _doing?”_ Qrow yells.

Tyrian laughs, and shouts back, “The _will_ of our _Goddess!”_

“And, apparently, the will of our Councilwoman,” Clover mutters.

Robyn makes a disgusted noise. “Are you _serious?_ You think I wanted to crash the fucking ship?”

Clover’s only response is to slam the side door open and leap out. No backflip this time, no nothing. He’s not showing off. Of course he’s not. The person he’d be showing off _for_ has a warrant out for his arrest.

Qrow starts for the open door himself, but he’s too late. In an instant, everything goes white.

* * *

May happens to be staring out the cockpit window when it happens. She _has_ always liked winter. Not the person, obviously, what non-bootlicker would? But the ice and the snow on the tundra, particularly at night? It’s beautiful.

It’s less beautiful when you watch a ship that looks suspiciously similar to the one you’re on take a nosedive _into_ said tundra. A flock of puffins (or possibly fratterkies) flies away from the crash site in alarm. Either not fratterkies at all, or everyone on that ship is either unconscious or dead and therefore isn’t giving off any negativity. Or the city’s negativity is just that strong – they _are_ flying toward Mantle.

But for once in her recent life, May is okay with leaving her city in the hands of others. At least two of her girls, possibly three, are down there right now. Mantle will survive.

Besides. She and Lis and the old man from Vox, their pilot, have their _own_ mission. It’s not like airships crashing is strange, during a Grimm attack. May wants to help them, she does, but dealing with Salem _probably_ is more important right now than saving the lives of a few bootlickers. If, of course, they’re even still alive. Even the Grimm hadn’t been interested.

Wait.

_Wait._ The Grimm _hadn’t been interested._ The ship hadn’t looked damaged, either. It wasn’t trailing smoke or anything. It had just been a perfectly normal ship, flying roughly in the same direction they were, until it started to angle downward a little. And then it was a lot more than a little, and then it kicked up a cloud of white and grey that May can’t have been the only one to see.

Except… no, Biz would have been focused on flying the plane, and the crash was way off to their left. Lis has her mask on, plugged into the keyboard of the airship’s front targeting computer, which means she’s likely viewing something back down in Mantle or all the way up in Atlas.

“Hey,” May says after a moment more, “did either of you see that? Looked like a crash, over that way.” She jabs a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of where it had been, not that anybody looks.

“The Grimm will be on top of them soon if they aren’t already, and we can’t risk losing this ship. It’s the only way we’ve got up to Atlas right now, and…” Biz visibly winces, but doesn’t change his course. “Do you really trust Ironwood to handle that on his own?”

“No,” May says immediately.

“No,” Lis agrees equally quickly. Still typing, she suddenly stops with a gasp. “Oh no.”

“What did he do?”

“Found what our illusory friend left in his office, and he did _not_ react well. This already happened, I’m skipping through some of the footage… _what the fuck?”_

_“What?”_

“Well, he shot that Ruby kid, for one thing,” Lis says. “And issued orders for her team’s arrest. _Dead or alive._ Also another team, Juniper… I think that’s their friends? And five o’clock shadow.”

The plane suddenly lurches. Biz steadies it immediately, but even he can’t quite conceal the shock in his eyes. “Why would he—does he think _Qrow_ is working with Salem? After what happened to Huntress Rose? And if those kids are with him, they wouldn’t either.”

“Unless they genuinely _did_ think Salem was the better option,” Lis proposes. “She did _something_ in Ironwood’s office, some kind of magical videoconference by jellyfish to talk to them all. But you’re right, if she’s like everyone says then I doubt the kids would go with her.”

“Well, if Ironwood abruptly issued a warrant for _my_ arrest, I might be willing to take my chances with the witch,” May mutters. “Don’t give me that look, Biz, at least _she_ hasn’t tried to kill me.”

“She _has_ tried to have _me_ killed, and to the best of her knowledge, she succeeded. Salem would have to be _very_ different from what I’ve heard for me to consider working with her. Ever.” Biz clears his throat. “Isn’t Robyn with Qrow? Vox was looking into that before you called.”

“Yeah, but she wouldn’t arrest him just because Ironwood said to.”

“Neither would we, which is why we didn’t get that alert directly sent to us,” Lis pipes up. “But she’s with… oh no. This transmission says she, five o’clock shadow, and _Clover Ebi_ arrested Tyrian about twenty minutes ago. Currently in transit to Atlas.”

_“Why_ are we being kept out of the loop like this?” Biz almost throws his hands up in frustration, but settles for keeping at least one hand on the controls instead. “I know, James and Qrow both think I’m dead too, but they should have told _you.”_

“But Ironwood doesn’t trust us, plain and simple,” May says. “Should have known better than to think he’d changed, even if he did _finally_ show up at our doorstep to tell the truth. The instant his back is against the wall—”

“That’s _not what I’m saying, you two!”_ Lis sets the mask down atop the dashboard, just to glare furiously at both. May _swears_ her silver eyes are almost glowing. “Biz, turn the ship around. Now.”

Faced with a new silver-eyed warrior he didn’t know existed, coupled with how abundantly clear it is that _this is not a request,_ Biz caves. “May I ask why?”

“That could be Robyn’s ship, the one that went down. And if it is, we’ve got a bootlicker, a… whatever five o’clock shadow is—”

“A huntsman with a complete and utter disdain for rules and regulations, particularly if they come from the Atlesian military.”

“Fine, a bootlicker, that, Robyn, and a _literal serial killer who wants them all dead._ All out there in the tundra together, every one hating every other. And you know what else?” Lis glances over at May. “I’m trying to contact Robyn right now and _I’m not getting any response!”_

Biz says nothing, only increases the ship’s speed. “I can’t maintain this pace for long.”

“We just have to hope it’ll be enough,” May says firmly. “Lis, you said you can tell when your thoughts aren’t going through. Maybe her bodycam just got damaged. Robyn’s alive, and we are _going_ to get to her in time.”

* * *

Okay, so Robyn got knocked out in the crash. That wouldn’t be good at the best of times, but when Qrow also has to fight someone he was making out with two hours ago _in the middle of the freezing tundra,_ yeah, it’s really, _really_ not good.

At least Tyrian’s still knocked out and somewhat restrained, although with _his_ luck Qrow is half expecting him to rear his ugly head at any moment. On the other hand, Clover’s closer to the ship, so maybe his luck will come into play instead. Maybe. Knock on (metaphorical) wood.

Qrow is _reasonably_ certain he can take Clover down, and fast, if he can just stop holding back. Bring his aura down, knock him out if he has to, leave him tied up in the remnants of the ship. Make _damn_ sure that Tyrian is secured (or even dead! That’s a nice thought.) Grab Robyn, wake her up ideally, and get the fuck out. Probably back to Mantle. Mantle is sounding like a _much_ better idea than Atlas right now considering Jimmy has, according to Ruby, officially fucking _lost it._

The issue with that is, of course, not holding back. 

It shouldn’t be hard. It’s far from the first time Qrow’s had to fight someone he _thought_ he could trust, and he’s not optimistic enough to think it’ll be the last.

But it _is_ hard, because he _knows_ Clover doesn’t think this is right either, but he’s still _doing it._ He’s still following stupid-ass Jimmy’s stupid-ass orders. Qrow really did think he had critical thinking skills, but – if he _does_ and he just doesn’t care, then that’s… 

Worse.

“We don’t have to do this,” Qrow says, blocking a strike of Clover’s weapon and holding it there. Holding him there. His own furious red eyes meet Clover’s unreadable teal. “Clover, listen to me. Dividing us like this is _exactly what Salem wants._ Jimmy—James, is playing right into her hands.”

“At least he has a plan. I can’t agree with everything he’s done, not if he shot…” Clover disengages and takes a step back, holding Kingfisher at the ready. “Let me take you in. _Please._ We can talk to him, find out what’s going on, make sure Callows is in a cell to rot like he deserves.”

“It’s _obvious_ what’s going on. James thinks that my nieces and their team are working with Salem. He wants Salem’s _actual_ agents brought in alive, but of course the kids are fucking open season. And so am _I,_ because I think this is _bullshit.”_

The two circle each other warily, weapons still positioned where they’d be all too easy to use. Two sets of booted prints mirror each other in the snow.

“How do you think you’re going to get to your kids without me?” Clover asks at last. “Sure, you can get up _to_ Atlas, but a bird flying through the hallways isn’t exactly inconspicuous, and if you show your face you’ll be lucky to be arrested and not shot on sight.”

Lucky… _ha._ Very funny.

It occurs to Qrow, after the words have already spilled out, that Clover might actually, genuinely have been trying to help. But it’s already too late. “I never pegged you for the manipulative type.”

Clover’s eyes narrow, and his grip on his weapon tightens. He counters, “Neither did I.”

And the battle resumes, this time at a much faster pace. Strike after strike, blow after blow. Their battle is a duel, and that duel is a dance. Clover attacks, and Qrow reacts with a block or a sidestep or an attack of his own. Qrow counterattacks, and Clover reacts as well.

There’s no initiative in this fight. No drive to win, even as both know that can only result in two losers. Qrow doesn’t want to fight Clover.

And a similar realization comes like a blow against his aura, far heavier than anything Qrow’s yet taken in this fight: _Clover doesn’t want to fight him either._

The next attack, Qrow blocks. Almost. From a distance, it might look like Clover disarms him. In reality, Qrow doesn’t even try to block, just throws Harbinger to the side like it’s vastly lighter than it is. It lands, point-down, in the snow within grabbing distance. But Qrow makes no move to go for it.

The bladed tip of Clover’s weapon stops just before contact with Qrow’s throat. And Qrow? He might be low on aura, but he _smiles._

“Are you ready to kill me?” Qrow asks. “Because I’m _not_ letting you bring me in alive.”

“Are you ready to die?”

“You don’t mean that.” It’s a bluff, and a rather pitiful one at that. Qrow can’t keep himself from flinching when the blade comes closer, and… stops.

Clover sighs, and lowers it. “No, I don’t. But I can’t just—are you _serious?”_

An abrupt change in tone, coupled with Clover looking _past_ Qrow, is all the warning he needs to know the situation’s changed. Qrow goes for Harbinger and spins around, already putting his weapon in shotgun form.

Is it Tyrian?

It’s Tyrian. Of _course_ it is.

“How did you even get _out?”_ Clover yells behind him. “That was enough bolas to restrain four people!”

“A good huntsman _never_ reveals his secrets,” Tyrian’s now _very_ unrestrained and doubtless _very_ lethal tail coils in the air behind him.

“You’re not even a huntsman!” Qrow points out.

“Oh, close enough. You blindly follow the will of your superiors, _supposedly_ to a good end. Am I really so different?”

“Yes???”

“Well, you’re right. I _know_ what I am helping bring about. The will of our Goddess. You, however? You know _nothing._ ”

“Shut _up,”_ Clover says. “Qrow, you have to help me arrest him. Please.”

_“Arrest_ him?” Qrow doesn’t bother looking back. “Arrest _him?_ You and I _both_ know that he’ll just break out again!”

“Well, he’s _right,”_ Tyrian points out.

“Why are you _agreeing_ with—you know what, I don’t fucking care. You, shut the fuck up, and stay _right fucking there.”_

“As you wish.” Tyrian balances carefully on his tail, then tucks his legs in to sit cross-legged on top of it, two feet above the ground. He puts his hands behind his head and sing-songs, “Don’t take too long! Her Grace has a schedule to keep, after all.”

Qrow turns, just enough that he can keep an eye on both Tyrian and Clover. “How do I know that the instant _he’s_ dealt with, you won’t just try to arrest _me_ again?”

It would be so, _so_ easy for Clover to just say he wouldn’t. Qrow shouldn’t take him at his word, not now… but he _would,_ if he’d only give it. Right now he’d take _any_ hope that Clover is more than just Jimmy’s pawn. 

But Clover doesn’t. He looks, suspiciously, at Tyrian. “Why are you listening to Qrow?”

Qrow throws up his hands. “You can’t _seriously_ think—”

“Oh, no reason _you_ need to worry about. _Do_ keep going.” Tyrian’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “If only I’d had the foresight to bring popcorn!”

“Shut up.”

Tyrian, shockingly, actually listens. Minus the snickering coming from his direction, but that, Qrow can ignore. He returns his attention to Clover.

“I don’t know, Qrow,” Clover says. “Let’s say you’re wrong about the kids, and they _did_ betray us all and are working for Salem.”

“I’m not, and they aren’t. James _has_ to be wrong.”

“What if he isn’t? If they are working for her—”

“Then they know something I don’t, and I’ll trust their judgement,” Qrow snaps.

The snickering increases in volume. By the time Qrow whirls around to face Tyrian, he’s full on _laughing_ . Qrow’s already got Harbinger in his grip, but he changes it to sword form and charges. “Shut the fuck _up!”_

He doesn’t get very far. A deceptively thin line wraps around his arm and tugs him back. Kingfisher. _Clover._

“Duck,” Tyrian says cheerfully.

Qrow doesn’t, and is knocked face-first into the snow.

* * *

Into the closet with the Ace Ops. A shame, really, after so many of them had put in the effort to come _out_ of the closet over the past few years. 

On second thought, maybe they should have found two closets. It takes a lot of careful squishing, and one instance of dragging everybody out again to put Elm on the bottom – she’s all muscle, but muscle is heavy – but eventually they get the door shut. 

Somehow Ruby gets the feeling none of them are going to be very comfortable when they wake up. 

“Now where’s Ironwood?” Ruby looks down each of the identical blue and white hallways leading out of this atrium as if expecting to see the General just ahead of them. 

“The vault, probably,” Weiss says. “He’ll be waiting for Winter. We need to get there before she does.”

Blake waves her team closer. “I think I know the way. Remember when Oscar told us he went down there?” She sets off down one hallway, looking far more confident than she really feels. Why does so much of Atlas Academy have to look the same? 

While they walk, Ruby pulls out her second scroll – her only scroll, now – and dials its singular contact. The line rings only a few seconds before the woman on the other end picks up. 

“What was that for?” Ruby demands at once. “You just got us all arrested!”

“You don’t sound very arrested.” 

“Okay, yeah, we just fought the Ace Ops and shoved them in a closet, but we’re still _wanted_ now. Because _you_ made Ironwood think we were allies!”

“You could be. That offer is still open.” Salem seems entirely unconcerned with the situation, which only makes Ruby even more frustrated. 

Her teammates look at her strangely and Weiss silently mouths the word “Salem?”

Ruby nods, and continues trying to berate the witch. “No, we are not going to work for you! Ironwood doesn’t even know we’ve met – or he _didn’t,_ until you acted like we knew each other with that weird smoke thing in his office!”

“We did fight together not long ago. You tried to save my life, not that I need it. At this point, I’d say familiarity is warranted. If the General didn’t know… I fail to see how that’s _my_ fault.”

“Because… ugh, you are just _impossible_!” Ruby snaps the scroll shut and sticks it back in her pocket. 

“Why do you keep talking to her?” Yang asks. 

“Because…” Ruby can’t quite find an answer for her sister either. “I just feel like I should keep in contact, strategically, you know. She does say some interesting things sometimes, in between trying to recruit all of us to her side. And also…” 

Ruby falls silent for a long moment again before finding her voice. “This is going to sound weird, and probably bad, and I wouldn’t tell this to anyone outside our team, but… Sometimes we both forget who we’re talking to and just chat for a while. About anything. Did you know Salem loves cats?”

“Like, a normal amount, or are we fighting a crazy cat lady?”

“Normal, I think. She doesn’t have any. She can’t support pets where she lives. She’s sent me pictures of her castle and it’s impressive, but kind of empty. Nothing around but Grimm.” 

“Hold up.” Blake stops the team’s progress to check a tiny, inadequate map on her scroll. “I think I took a wrong turn. Or maybe I just don’t know how to get there like I thought I did.” The group turns around and makes their way through yet more blue and white halls, identical to all the rest in this part of the academy. 

“So what’s Salem like?” Yang asks. “I mean, as a person. You’ve met her face to face now, what, twice? And you came out alive, and that’s… not what I would have expected.”

“She’s…” Ruby searches for a word to describe their enemy. How can she sum up all those text conversations, the occasional calls, everything Salem had said at their first encounter and then later when fighting against Cinder? If she had to pick a single word, maybe it should be… “Lonely.”

Yang snorts. “I’d imagine so, if the only people she ever sees are those psychos who work for her. But hey, if we’re not going over to her side, maybe she’d like to join ours? Learn how to protect people instead of killing them?”

“Somehow I doubt she’d go for that,” Weiss comments. 

Blake stops in the middle of the hallway. “Probably not, but…” She turns around to face the rest of her team, ears curled forward at the tips. “We all heard what she said in there. What do you do with an enemy you can’t fight? If even silver eyes can’t hurt her…”

“She interrupted me when I used them on Cinder,” Ruby says. “I got the impression they’d hurt the Grimm part of her, but it’s the human part that’s immortal. And her Grimm infusion is not the reason for her destructive behavior.” 

“Which means…” Blake’s ears curl a little further and turn outward. “Maybe we _should_ be thinking about diplomatic solutions.”

“Probably.” Ruby pulls out her scroll. “But right now, while we’re stopped… Could I copy everyone’s numbers into here? Since Ironwood _shot_ my other scroll. That was the one with all my pictures in it!”

“Oh no, how will we ever survive without pictures of Zwei to cheer us up?”

Ruby laughs, but quickly becomes serious again. “Not just that. I was the one who took Team JNPR’s group photo that they framed, like ours. I had pictures of Pyrrha in there. And Penny, but at least she’s with us again now. And Ironwood just destroyed all of that. Every record I had of a life before this war.”

“We’ll end it,” Weiss says, determined. “One way or another. I _refuse_ to die until this world is better than we found it, and Salem can consider that a _threat._ Now, Blake… which way to Ironwood?”

* * *

If the gods still give a damn about this world (doubtful) and are watching (even more doubtful), Qrow has the distinct feeling that they’re laughing at him. Would be, anyway. Someone he’d considered a friend, tentatively even more than that, seems to have conveniently forgotten that Jimmy’s order said dead or alive. And someone he would _very much like to end and be done with, thank you,_ is, for some bizarre reason, _fighting alongside him._

Either there _is_ some truth to the kids working with Salem, in which case he’s got some _serious_ questions for them if he and they all survive tonight, or…

No time for thinking now, that swipe nearly took off his fingers and his aura’s getting _really_ low by now. He stumbles, nearly falls, but Tyrian’s tail pushes him up and back into the fight.

It’s the same tail that nearly _killed him._ Just made of metal now after Ruby cut the first one off. 

This _shouldn’t be happening,_ yet Qrow is powerless to stop it. And at this point, he’s not sure if he’d want to. One thing _is_ for sure: Clover’s semblance might be luck, but his skill makes far more of a difference.

Luck just gives him openings. Skill lets him take advantage of said openings. Luck is what lets the line wrap around Harbinger’s handle, avoiding any of Qrow’s fingers, but skill—not to mention strength—is what sends it flying.

Well, _fuck._ Qrow isn’t fast enough to stop Tyrian being wrapped up in the same line and downed, not that he particularly wants to even if they _are_ uneasy allies.

He still comes in with a punch. His fist connects, and—Clover’s aura breaks.

He shouldn’t feel as guilty about that as he does.

They’ve both lost their weapons. Tyrian falling with Kingfisher’s line wrapped around him must have yanked it out of Clover’s hand. Qrow’s aura can’t be much higher than Clover’s is, at this point, and it’ll take Tyrian _some_ time at least to reenter the fight.

“I trust my kids,” Qrow says. “Why can’t _you_ trust _me?”_

“Oh, I don’t know,” Clover says, breathing heavily, “but the fact that you’re fighting alongside a _known serial killer,_ never mind one of Salem’s agents, might have something to do with it?”

“That wasn’t my idea! I’m not fighting with _him,_ he just decided to fight with _me_ and I don’t even know why!”

“Because we’re on the same side, obviously,” Tyrian pipes up from the ground, still halfway tangled up in fishing wire. 

“If we really were, he wouldn’t be _telling_ you that! He tried to kidnap Ruby, tried to kill her friends, _poisoned_ me which was _such_ a fun time, and that’s just the stuff that directly involves me! I don’t want him arrested, I want him _dead!_ Or do you really not even believe _that.”_

“Our orders were to bring him in _alive,”_ Clover says tersely.

_“Fuck_ our orders! Your orders now, since you know, _I’m_ supposed to be arrested. But orders are all that matter to you, aren’t they?”

“That’s not what I—”

“Of course it’s not! You meant something else, you know what’s best for _everyone,_ even that big announcement hid things like _Salem being fucking immortal—”_

“Oh, she is?” Tyrian says unhelpfully.

“Shut the fuck up, you. I’ve heard it all before. I’ll hear it all again.” There’s the telltale sound of an airship approaching, but Qrow’s beyond caring about that by now. If it’s the authorities, he might even let himself be arrested. But not by _Clover._ He lowers his head and mumbles, “I was a fool to think it would ever work between us. That it _could_ ever work between us.”

“No, you weren’t.” Clover sighs as Qrow looks back at him. “It could have worked, if things had been different somehow. If Salem hadn’t attacked _now,_ hadn’t done such a good job of dividing us.” He takes a step forward, but only one. 

“But she did. And you and Jimmy both fell for it.”

“But she did,” Clover echoes. A spotlight sweeps over all three of them – wait. Where’s the third? 

Qrow picks up on the spike of panic in his eyes and looks around, but Tyrian is gone. So is Harbinger. And the airship is landing nearby, with its lights so bright he can hardly see anything else. 

Clover hesitates, just for a moment. “Go.”

Qrow nods numbly. There’s so many things he could say, so many things he _wants_ to say and might not get another chance to. There’s no doubt that if they meet again, there won’t be another chance like this, not unless James abruptly changes his mind. And James _never_ changes his mind.

He settles on just a thank you. Keep it simple, and take his head start over whoever _else_ is coming to arrest him. 

But before he can express it, before he can even _start_ to hoist Robyn over his shoulder and run– 

The airship doors open, and a blue-haired woman decidedly _not_ in military uniform jumps out. Clover, having started toward the ship, freezes. 

The spotlight flicks off, and Qrow catches a flicker of movement through non-adjusted eyes. A glint of metal, where it shouldn’t be. 

And even half-blinded he can watch with fateful, unwanted clarity as Harbinger plunges from behind through Clover’s chest. 

His mind goes numb once again. All is still, and silent. There are no footsteps crunching through the snow. No engine slowly winding down. Only a single gasp, and whimper. 

And Tyrian’s sickening, unbearable _laugh._

* * *

Two point three percent aura. Two point four. Two point five. 

Cinder stares impatiently at her scroll, pacing around the room. At least she got Neo to leave before her aura came back enough to summon. Wouldn’t want her seeing that, and getting ideas about her own future. 

There. Two point eight percent, exactly enough to call forth one soul from the purgatory where Cinder’s killing blows send them. She stops and thrusts her arm out to the side, and a cone of pale yellow light condenses into the form of an unarmed woman in a long robe. 

The moment her summon forms completely and starts looking around herself in surprise and wonder, Cinder’s aura breaks again. She takes a moment to thank fate that her semblance only costs aura to bring a summon out, and not to maintain one’s existence. 

“Cinder…” The woman made of pale yellow aura smiles softly at her. “It’s good to see you again… from the outside.”

“Tessa,” Cinder greets her evenly. “Before you ask, no, I’m not _reconsidering._ I just need your semblance. Use it on me.”

Tessa nods solemnly, and steps forward to place both hands on Cinder’s shoulders. “You should be more careful,” she says, palms flaring brighter yellow which fades into the orange of Cinder’s own aura around the points of contact. “You could have avoided that fight. I don’t like seeing people get hurt like that.”

Cinder snorts. “Tell that to Amber. Begging for death, just to get away from me. Trying to sabotage us both. It’s pathetic. Same with Vernal, though at least _she_ survived her fight. But you’re, what, just content to hang out here forever and heal me?”

“I was a paramedic in life. Of course I’ll help anyone I can.” Tessa closes her eyes and looks away. “But think, Cinder… about all the people I can’t save anymore. The climbing accidents in the mountains, the Grimm attacks, all these people you never even met who you might have condemned to death.”

“I don’t _care_ about your little village in the Mistral mountains. What could any of those ignorant civilians accomplish? You know the truth now. There are bigger things in this world.” Cinder looks at her scroll. Aura at fifteen percent. “Can’t you do that any faster?”

Tessa shakes her head. “I can’t give you my aura. I only speed up the regeneration of yours.”

Cinder lets out a deep sigh. “This is the worst part of fighting. Dealing with _you_ afterward. You and that infuriating _kindness._ I _killed_ you! And you barely even care.”

“I care. Don’t you? So unnecessary… just like all the others. I found you washed up, nearly dead, of course I was going to help. It’s okay to let people help you, Cinder. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

“Shut up.” Cinder pulls away from Tessa’s healing hands and flops down in a padded armchair. “Well, don’t stop! I need to be back in top shape again.”

Tessa squeezes in beside her and leans against Cinder’s side, placing one glowing hand against the back of her neck and the other on her thigh. “I would have taken you home and cared for you,” she says softly. “Food, a hot bath, a comfortable place to rest…”

Cinder scoffs at the suggestion. “I saw your face when you looked at me. At my arm. I was a monster. I still am.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Everyone deserves life, and comfort. Not just those you kill… you too.” Tessa lifts her hand from Cinder’s leg and wraps her arm around her front instead, until Cinder is trapped in a hug and can only roll her eyes in silent protest. “Not everyone only looks out for themselves. Allow yourself to accept help – and give help – just for its own sake, for once.”

Cinder groans loudly. “Spare me the redemption talk. It’s bad enough you badger me about it every time Pyrrha shows up in my dreams. And I’m sick of her too. Every time I fight, she tries to distract me by screaming in my head.” 

“Have you considered not fighting?” Tessa laughs, and caresses Cinder’s cheek. “That would seem to be the obvious solution. Just retire, get a nice cozy cabin in the mountains, with a garden… I think you’d like gardening, don’t you? I know where there’s a house available, but it might be a little overgrown by now.”

“Ugh…” Cinder swats at Tessa’s hand. “I know your semblance requires touch, but do you _have_ to be so clingy?” Her aura’s at sixty-nine percent. Nice progress, but not particularly close to being done. She’ll have to deal with Tessa for a little while longer.

“Afraid so! I’m just too full of love, you see, and if you give me no other outlet…”

“I _literally_ murdered you and stole your clothes for a disguise.” 

“And now you’re facing the consequences of your actions. You didn’t stop to listen to me then, so now you get to hear my voice _all the time._ One day maybe it will actually get through, and you’ll start using your powers for good.”

“Right. And we’ll all hold hands and frolic in a field of flowers while we’re at it.”

If Tessa picks up on Cinder’s sarcasm, she ignores it. Instead, she takes Cinder’s hand in both of hers. “Flowers are nice.”

“Are they?”

“They’re pretty.”

“They’re _useless._ They live short, meaningless lives, and nobody remembers them when they’re gone. They’re—”

“Not useless, actually. Not at all. Many flowers can be used to help treat common illnesses, when aura alone can’t do the trick.” Tessa holds Cinder’s hand to her chest. “And even the ones that don’t have a practical use are beautiful, while they last. They bring joy to all who see them, and even if that joy is short-lived, it can make all the difference in the world.”

Cinder looks at her scroll again. Ninety-three percent aura. _Almost_ there.

“You could be right. Maybe it _can._ But it never _did.”_ Cinder blinks harder than usual and adds, quietly, “Not for me.”

Tessa raises a hand, gently brushing away a tear Cinder hadn’t noticed and wouldn’t have acknowledged if she had. “It still can. You _can_ find a reason to live that's not hate and destruction. You can do anything you want to, if you only try.”

One hundred percent.

Cinder reaches for Tessa’s forehead. With a thought, Tessa disappears in the same yellow cone of light she’d emerged from, and she’s gone.

But she’s _never_ gone. Not in the way Cinder sometimes wishes she was.

“Maybe I could have,” Cinder says to the empty room, “if that day had gone differently.” Which day? The day she’d survived Raven’s beating, nearly drowned, and then killed a stranger in cold blood? Or something earlier? 

Tessa says nothing, only hums a gentle acknowledgment. For a few moments, Cinder allows herself to dwell on what might have been, what perhaps could have been if she’d only—

No. Cinder has no time to dwell on what-ifs and might-have-beens. She is going to get her revenge, on Ruby _and_ Salem, no matter what it takes. 

* * *

“Two! Three! Four! Five!” A count, one per second, exactly as he’s learned to do so well. “Keep him alive! Eight! Nine! Ten!”

But the man known to Atlas as Bishop cannot stop to tend to the wounded himself. May and Lis have already sprinted to their unconscious leader’s side, and Qrow – what is _Qrow Branwen_ doing in _this_ kingdom? – is cradling the stabbed one’s head in his arms. 

That leaves Bishop to handle the madman with a bloody sword. 

He doesn’t have a weapon of his own. He hardly needs one. At Shade he always emphasized versatility to his students: the ability to do more with less, to adapt to anything, just as the desert kingdom demands of everyone who lives in it. 

But the Ace Ops captain’s fishing rod lays almost in his path, and that will do as well as anything. Bishop grabs it without pausing in his movement and gives it a swing toward the cackling Tyrian. The hook at the end goes flying. Tyrian blocks it with the flat of his borrowed sword, but that was more to test the weapon’s weight than a real attack. 

_“Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.”_ Bishop mutters aloud to himself, keeping time even through his swings and dodges. Tyrian fights back with blade and tail, grinning all the while, slinging droplets of blood all around with each pass of the sword. 

But eventually curiosity does get the better of him. “What exactly are you counting, old man?”

“Twenty-one. The number of pieces your body will be in when they find you. Twenty-five. Twenty-six. That’s why I started at _two!_ Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one…”

Two neon blue bolts of energy come flying from behind Bishop, and Tyrian leaps into the air to twist his body around them. “Hey, now! What are – oh, hello there…” His grins widens again and he licks his lips. “Silver-eyed girl number two! I do believe I have some _business_ with you.”

Bishop throws the fishing rod’s bladed hook again and tangles the cord around Tyrian’s ankle. The scorpion man trips, slashing out with his tail even as he falls, and Bishop narrowly manages to evade its stinging tip. Good. A hit like that would cut a good five seconds off his maximum count. 

Tyrian rolls over in the snow and cuts through Kingfisher’s extended line to free himself, but not quick enough to also avoid the second volley from Lis’s electric tuning forks. A pair of crossbow bolts follows them, which he bats out of the air with the tip of his tail. 

Bishop drops the rod in the snow. No need for that now. Time is of the essence. His count is already at forty-one, after all. 

He dashes in, catching Tyrian’s tail just below the stinger in one hand’s solid grip, one of his wrists in the other, and headbutts him in the face. Purple aura flickers, and a knee to the groin cracks it completely. 

“Oh, _fine._ I suppose I’d best be going. You know my record with the authorities!” Tyrian wrenches himself out of Bishop’s grip and turns, tail still waving menacingly even in his retreat. No one pursues him, and neither of the huntresses’ ranged attacks could hit at that distance. 

But then he pauses and calls back one last message, aimed at Bishop and him alone. “Give the Ahavh family my regards, _Theo!”_

“Fifty. Fifty-one. Fifty-two. Fifty-three.” Bishop sprints back toward the two airships, and the gravely injured man between them. “Is he alive?” he yells to Qrow. “Fifty-six. Fifty-seven. Something his size, I can rewind eighty seconds! _Is he still alive?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's true that a simple wink can ignite hope, breathe fire into the hearts of the weary. The ability to derive strength from hope is undoubtedly a reader's greatest attribute... which is why we will focus all of our power to snuff it out._
> 
> _How does it feel, knowing that all of your pleas and screams have been for nothing? That your AUs have failed you? That everything you've wished for will be torn away before your very eyes?_
> 
> _Your faith in a fair game was not misplaced. When set together, free of other entanglements, they have a noticeable chemistry. But divide them, turn their loyalties against each other, and any semblance of romance they once had will wash away._
> 
> _Of course, they won't realize it at first. Like you, they'll cling to their fleeting hope, their endgame plot armor. But this is merely the first move. So you send your comments, your bargains and bribes, and when they fail and you turn to desperate DMs, know that you only bring closer your own pitiful demise. This is the beginning of the end, shippers. And we can't wait to hear you scream._
> 
> Tessa is from [The Only Reason](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777594/chapters/54428833), a very good fic written by Fairytale108 who you may recognize from the comments section. As far as Flame or I have read, things go a bit better for her and Cinder in that story. Bit scary, but very VERY good. If you can read Spanish, or don't mind swapping tabs between Google Translate and AO3 like your life depends on it, we HIGHLY recommend it.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! :) Thanks for reading, feel free to leave us a comment to let us know what you think!


	29. Part 3 Episode 4: Ceasefire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin finally decides to get involved directly. RWBY run into two people in the halls, who are very much not Maria and Pietro. Tyrian looks for shelter in the wrong place.

Good news: it hasn’t been eighty seconds yet. Biz can still rewind,  _ if _ the recently stabbed Clover is still alive. 

But he’s not. 

At least, he stopped breathing a good fifteen seconds ago. 

_ That’s _ the bad news and really, it negates the good news entirely. Qrow, who  _ shouldn’t be here, _ is already full on sobbing. One of the Happy Huntresses, the one with the clubs, looks like she isn’t sure what to do. The other looks sad, but nothing on the level of the person who, logically speaking, shouldn’t  _ care _ about anything to do with the military.

But love doesn’t follow logic, now, does it?

“I’m sorry,” Biz says, uselessly.

Qrow’s head snaps up.  _ “Theo? _ The fuck are you—what are you waiting for, you have to…” He chokes back a sob.

As far as ways to find out an old friend you haven’t seen in years is bisexual go, this is really not a good one. Biz doesn’t bother correcting Qrow on his new name, not now. Not here. Not like this.

“You know it doesn’t work if—”

_ “You have to try!” _

It doesn’t work if they’re already dead. This, Biz knows. And Qrow knows too. He’d clearly recognized him, even if he’d forgotten his semblance’s limitations in the heat of the moment.

It’s impossible. He’s tried before. Something always went wrong, even if his aura held up. Someone else attacked him and broke his concentration, or he tried to only rewind the part of the body that was wounded, or… any number of other things that went wrong and could go wrong again.

It’s  _ impossible. _

And yet… Biz hasn’t seen Qrow Branwen since some time before he left (or rather, fled) Shade Academy. But he’d worked with him in the past, and been witness to one or two more mental breakdowns than the average friend. Qrow’s not an alcoholic because he likes the taste.

But Qrow’s friend, Headmaster Theodore Berzins of Shade, had  _ never _ seen him like  _ this _ . Not after Raven, not after Summer.

So the tired old man who perhaps, in another life, had been a headmaster? He kneels beside the body, puts a single gloved hand on one arm… and he  _ tries. _

One second. Two. Three and four and five-six-seven-eight-nine. The clock ticks backwards. On the sidelines, Robyn staggers to her feet, but Biz pays her no mind. Fifty-nine, sixty, sixty-one. This can’t work, and he’s foolish to hope it will. Seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six, seventy-seven.

His aura shatters into a million grey pieces at seventy-eight. Even so, Biz dares to hope. The wound that killed Clover is gone without a trace. But that, alone, isn’t enough. No teal-blue aura flickers back to life. He’s still not breathing.

“No,” Qrow whispers. “No, you can’t—it has to work. It  _ has _ to. You can’t—”

“He’s gone,” Biz says for all of them. “Qrow… I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Qrow chokes back a sob. “Gods, I  _ know. _ I just thought, maybe, somehow…”

Whatever it was Qrow thought it would be, maybe, somehow, the world may never know. Because right then, right as Qrow loses all hope…

...the dead man coughs.

* * *

Two hours ago, Ironwood’s announcement had shown the whole kingdom a distant snapshot of a griffon, with a woman riding on its back. It’s been a long time since Ozpin saw his nemesis in person, even in a photo like that. The vision he was given at Haven doesn’t count. 

Then the Grimm arrived once again, and with them military communications lit up with orders and reports. Most of them had been uninteresting, except… 

The Naga Seven airship sent in a request to investigate “strange lights” over the city of Atlas. Around the same time, the entire fleet drove itself into a panic over a supposed tornado. 

Ozpin hadn’t gotten up from his workbench to look outside. Why would he? Solitas doesn’t get tornados. And he still had work to do. 

But then another announcement went out, to every soldier’s headset and every robot’s external speakers. Ruby’s voice, condemning the General, cut off by a shot. Followed by an alert calling for her entire team’s arrest. Just what is everyone  _ doing _ up in Atlas right now?

Maybe he  _ should _ go up and look around for himself?

Maybe in a few minutes. Test one more component first. Or at least review the last recorded footage from that airship before it was apparently destroyed. If he still has Pietro’s nearly-top military clearance, he might as well use it, right? 

Those were indeed some strange lights he neglected to go look at while they were happening. They almost look like… no… really? Who has magic here? Fria certainly isn’t in any shape to be out fighting, no matter how much she seemed to want to during the last attack. But other than Salem and himself…

Cinder. Ozpin recognizes her at once in the Naga Seven’s forward camera. Fighting against Salem, for some reason. 

Of  _ course _ Ruby was involved in this too. When isn’t she? Hovering with the top half of her body in normal shape is new, though. 

The airship’s weapons kick on, targeting Cinder alone. Ignoring the greater threat entirely. Why? He may never know, as that’s when Cinder flies overhead and the airship goes down in flames. 

Ugh.  _ Fine. _ He’ll just have to go find Team RWBY again and ask. That footage confirmed for him that Salem really is here in person, much more than what Ironwood’s clip showed, and in a situation like this it’s probably worth blowing his cover to stop her. 

Ozpin sets down his electronics and stands, and in moments he’s out the front door of the pharmacy. No need to leave a note for Pietro; he probably won’t even notice the robot body is gone again. 

Whatever is going on up there, it’s about time he got involved. 

* * *

Arthur Watts has always prided himself on being technologically connected, no matter where he is and no matter what the situation. Between his scroll, typically several models ahead of whatever the richest Atlesian elites have, and his rings, which are impossible for anyone but him to understand and he wouldn’t want it any other way, the only reason he’s ever disconnected is if he’s out of range, or he’s deliberately ignoring communications.

That’s why it doesn’t make  _ sense _ that Salem has gotten his answering machine three times in a row. He knows what her number is. He knows she isn’t exactly pleased with him at the moment, and that if he failed to beat Ironwood—which he clearly did—he was to stand by awaiting further orders. Certainly his scroll has been confiscated, but he  _ had _ been bragging just yesterday about being able to take calls with nothing but one of his high-tech rings.

Salem tries again. One more time. If he  _ still _ doesn’t pick up, she’s going in person, and he had  _ better _ have a good reason for not picking up. It wouldn’t do to have another Cinder problem on her hands. 

Her scroll rings once, and again, and once more...

“If you are calling this number, you already know who I am. If you don’t? Good riddance. If you’re a telemarketer? May the creatures of Grimm eviscerate you and your children. Leave a message after the beep.”

Salem just  _ groans. _ The beep comes, and she says nothing, simply hangs up and tucks her scroll away.

Arthur Watts is going to have a  _ lot _ of explaining to do.

* * *

Is there really anything better than murder? Tyrian is inclined to think not. Some deaths are, of course, far more satisfying than others. An outspoken but otherwise useless supporter of the newest councilwoman, for instance, is fun to scare but barely even puts up a fight. A huntsman, on the other hand, particularly one as high up as the now  _ former _ captain of the Ace Ops, is  _ so _ much better.

Tyrian, of course, would have  _ preferred _ to frame Qrow for it, but the unfortunate arrival of two Happy Huntresses and one  _ supposed to be dead _ headmaster made that, tragically, impossible. Still, far be it from Tyrian to focus on the negatives when there are  _ so _ many positives to be found. 

He does so love it when one death leads to more. He can practically see it now… Qrow will  _ never _ side with Salem after this, even if Ruby somehow does. He’ll strike out on his own on a foolish quest for revenge, and when he’s least expecting it, he’ll join that oh so  _ unfortunate _ captain of his.

But not before Tyrian has some  _ fun _ with him.

Oh, and even better: he’s got a lovely new weapon now, and all the time in the world to figure out how it works. It pained him to clean off the blood, it really did, but he begrudgingly admits it’s best to avoid unnecessary attention when the whole city is out looking for him.

It just isn’t fun if there’s  _ too _ many people attacking him. Too many and he has to concentrate on the fighting itself, instead of simply fantasizing about the fight’s end. 

Also he should probably let his aura regenerate  _ just _ a bit before leaping back into the fray. But if, say, someone just  _ happened _ to recognize him and took issue with that?

How could Tyrian  _ possibly _ refuse?

“Hey, over here!”

Oh, and speak of the devil. Tyrian is perhaps smiling a little too much when he turns to see a bundled-up woman with pink cat ears poking out the top of her hair, waving like she recognizes him.

Interesting…

“Why, hello there,” Tyrian says. He begins to uncoil his tail from his belt loops. “What can  _ I _ help you with this fine evening?”

“Well, I was going to say you shouldn’t be out here in the middle of a Grimm invasion, but you’re actually exactly who I was looking for. That… sounds a lot worse than it should be, actually.” The woman laughs nervously. “Listen. I know who you are, and I bring the White Fang’s regards. We want in. Got somewhere you can hunker down in for a bit, seeing as we’re not the only ones looking for you. Not by  _ far, _ and I doubt anyone else would say hi before attacking you on sight.”

Tyrian stops uncoiling his tail. He doesn’t move to settle it back into the appearance of a belt  _ just _ yet, though. “And why should I trust you?”

“The name Adam Taurus mean anything to you?”

As a matter of fact, it does. Adam had never liked him very much, preferring to work with Hazel or Cinder when he had to, instead of his fellow faunus. The last Tyrian heard of him, he’d fled Haven after the last  _ remnants _ of the White Fang were arrested.

“Yeah, so,  _ he’s _ dead,” the woman continues dismissively, “but Mantle branch leadership thinks he had the right idea. Figured we should try to find either you or that Watts fucker, and no one really wanted to deal with  _ him _ . Humans, am I right?”

Tyrian snorts. “If he perishes tonight, my only regret will be not ending him myself.”

“Yeah. That can  _ definitely _ be arranged, assuming Ironwood doesn’t rob us all of the opportunity. Maybe if he does, we’ll get lucky and Watts will take Ironwood with him.”

“I  _ have _ gotten pretty lucky tonight.”

The joke flies completely over the woman’s head. She shrugs, completely unaware of the context of that or why Tyrian is quietly snickering, and says, “Well… good for you, then? We’d better get moving, if you’re coming. Military patrol comes this way every quarter hour. Not that I think we’d have a problem with them, but their footage is a little harder to wipe than just security cameras.”

_ We, _ Tyrian notes, not  _ you. _

Either she genuinely is this trusting—doubtful—or she’s raising herself to Tyrian’s level.

Interesting.  _ Very _ interesting. 

“Very well,” Tyrian says at last. He bows, though not as low as he would for Her Grace, of course. “Lead the way.”

* * *

All that’s left to do now is wait. As far as places to await the inevitable go, the roof of Eudico’s apartment building isn’t a bad one. It’s quiet up there, especially at night.

To be fair, it’s not as quiet as  _ usual _ because of the Grimm, but the general area is under control at the moment. So: the roof it is, waiting for a phone call from an old friend (though Eudico would be lying if she said that was all she and Cressa had ever been.)

The last time she’d been up here was with Ticker, too, but it hadn’t just been Ticker. Red had been here too. She’d been the one to convince Eudico that restarting Vox wasn’t hopeless, and…

“She was right,” Eudico says to herself.

“‘Bout what?” Ticker asks. She passes the can back over. Eudico takes a long sip, then sets it down on the roof between them. “Also, who are we talking about?”

“Red. Ruby. Kid with the cape and the flashy eyes and the inspirational speeches. She was… right. About Vox, and about me too. She… well, Biz might have told her about Vox to begin with which I did  _ not appreciate _ but it was all her that got me willing to fight again. After that, what happened to Thursby was all it took.”

“And look how far we’ve come,” Ticker points out. “You didn’t even notice that we’re drinking root beer.”

Eudico makes a choking noise, and grabs for the can, knocking it over the edge and down to the street below. “Void  _ dammit. _ At least it was mostly empty. It’s…  _ really?” _

“The  _ first _ can was actually alcoholic. Second and third weren’t, and honestly I’m surprised I had to tell you. You’re doing a lot better. Not just in that.”

“Yeah,” Eudico says. “I guess… I am.”

And isn’t  _ that _ the strangest realization of all. Crouched on the edge of the roof, wearing that beanie as always, Ticker’s hair moves a little in the wind. She’s pretty,  _ obviously, _ Eudico’s known that from the start. Maybe, if she’s really doing better—or at least Ticker believes she’s doing better…

Maybe it’s time she said something she’s barely dared to think.

“So, Ticker,” Eudico continues. “Once we’ve dealt with Tyrian… want to do something later? Other than sit on my roof drinking, because I doubt that really counts as a… well, you know…”

“Date,” Ticker finishes for her. “Void and stars, fucking  _ finally. _ I was beginning to think you’d never ask!”

“I— _ what?” _

“I would _absolutely_ _love_ to do something later, although I should point out that what we’re doing now does technically count as a date, and if it does it’ll be _far_ from our first.” Ticker considers this and adds, “Although our first might actually be that time in the bar… last year? Damn. Feels like it’s been way longer.”

“So you’ve been interested…”

“Yep.”

“This  _ whole time.” _

“Yep.”

Eudico groans, and buries her head in her hands. “Well, I’m a voiddamned idiot, but you already knew that.”

Ticker pats her shoulder and says, grinning, “Yep.”

Before Eudico can get another word in edgewise to defend herself, not that there’s much she can or would say to argue that, her scroll rings with a familiar tune, one that she’s never thought to change.

Ticker looks like she’s holding back laughter. The scroll manages to get out  _ “cold, the air and water flowing” _ before she picks up.

“Hi, LD,” she says, and puts it on speaker. “Any reason you’re calling me and not Cressa?”

On the other end, Little Duck makes the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “She heard you were with Ticker and said something about not wanting to interrupt? No idea what that would be about. None at all.”

Eudico just  _ sighs.  _ Ticker stops trying not to laugh, not that she had been trying particularly hard before.

* * *

“That’s it, I’m lost.” Blake slides her scroll back into her pocket. “We’ll need to check a posted map. Should be one right up here.”

“I don’t think they’d put the vault on a public map,” Yang comments. 

“No, but I can check that against what Oscar said and figure out where he went that time. I just hope we’re not too late.”

“There’s still time. We can do this.” Ruby runs ahead into the round atrium ahead, much like the one they’d fought the Ace Ops in, only to skid to a stop. Blake nearly runs into her from behind, but still Ruby stays frozen, staring across at the figure standing in one of the other two doorways. “You’re awake? It really worked?”

“Indeed I am.” The false Penny lifts his cane and takes another step forward. “It took some time to adjust to such a different mental architecture, but now I–” 

Ozpin freezes as well, and the calm smile on his face disappears as he looks over to the third entrance. Ruby follows his gaze, and sighs as she drops her face to one hand. 

“Salem, what are you doing here?”

The witch looks different from the last time Ruby saw her. Her hair had already been fixed after the fight when she appeared in Ironwood’s office, but now the stab wound in her dress is repaired and she has a red sash with a large flowery ornament at her hip. She stays just inside the doorway, equally spaced between Ruby’s team and the robot across from them. 

“Came looking for Watts, but I seem to have gotten lost,” Salem says. “Who’s this?”

“Call it magic or call it something stronger, but in that moment, the two knew exactly who it was that stood before them,” Ozpin intones, twirling his cane in one hand. “Has it been that long? First let’s all get a better look at  _ you.” _

Ozpin sweeps his free hand diagonally downward, with a faint green glow surrounding it as it moves. Nothing happens at first, but as his gesture finishes, the ornament at Salem’s side shimmers and is replaced by a familiar blue lamp. 

“My illusion magic… Ozpin?” Salem looks up again, finally noticing the cane in this unfamiliar body’s hands. 

Ozpin doesn’t respond, only stares at the lamp for a moment before returning his gaze to Ruby. “How did this happen?” he asks in a low voice. 

“Ozpin, calm down.” Ruby takes a few steps forward, and her team follows. “We need to get to the Atlas vault. Can you take us there?” 

_ “How did this happen?!” _

Ruby holds up her empty hands. “The lamp was confiscated by the SDC when we arrived in Atlas,” she explains. “Do you remember any of that? Were you watching? Blake, Nora, and I got thrown in the mines, and the lamp was stolen from the company before we got our possessions back.”

“By Tyrian,” Blake supplies. “He returned our weapons to us, but kept the lamp.”

“So why haven’t you tried to take it  _ back?” _

Salem cuts in before Ruby can respond. “Because they know how foolish that would be? Give the girls some credit, Oz, they know how to pick their battles.” 

“We beat the Ace Ops. We beat the Profit-Taker Orb. We would  _ not _ beat Salem.” 

“I thought I could depend on you…” Ozpin slams the tip of his cane on the floor. “To do the right thing no matter the cost! That’s what you told me when you applied for Beacon, is it not? I trusted you to be  _ huntresses! _ To protect the world, not sit by and let  _ her _ destroy it!”

“You  _ never _ trusted us,” Yang spits. “Just fed us lie after lie. Every time swearing it was the complete and total truth.” 

Weiss steps over to take Yang’s hand. “We can do this later,” she says softly. “Saving Mantle comes first.”

Ruby raises her voice again to speak to Oz. “If we fought Salem here, we would all die.” 

“And if it got the lamp out of her control, it would be worth it!” Another thud of cane against marble. “I’ve sacrificed my life dozens of times to stop her. I’ve–”

“Maybe so, but we only get one!” Ruby interjects. “And if it was just me, maybe. But I won’t send my  _ team _ into an unwinnable fight.” 

Ozpin looks away. “Then once again, I have to do everything myself.” 

He swaps his cane to the left hand, in a backward grip, and raises his right toward Salem. Ruby swings Crescent Rose off her back, but does not unfold it. Salem puts one hand on the lamp and readies the other in front of her. 

And the moment Ozpin’s hand begins to glow with green, Ruby swirls into rose petals. 

She emerges again precisely between the two immortals, facing Oz with her weapon held out in front of her. A narrow beam of dark green light fires from Ozpin’s palm and strikes the folded Crescent Rose, and Ruby goes flying back under its force. She lands hard on the tile floor and a hand helps her up – Salem’s hand. 

“No!” Ruby shouts, halting Ozpin’s approach. “We are  _ not _ going to fight here! Right now Ironwood is the bigger threat, and we are running out of time to stop him!”

“We’ve already lost one mentor figure today,” Weiss pipes up from across the atrium. “Please don’t make it two.”

“Out of curiosity,” Salem says, “what exactly  _ is _ the General doing? I’m afraid left the meeting a little early.”

Ozpin takes another step toward her. “Don’t. Say. A word.”

But Ruby does. “He wants to use the staff. It’s holding Atlas in the air already but he wants to take it further. Beyond anywhere dust or Grimm can reach. He’s going to abandon Mantle to die.”

“And Atlas won’t last much longer,” Yang says. “Where are they going to get food, without bringing the city down again? Anyone who wanted to steal the staff could simply wait for a supply run and hop aboard.” Suddenly she realizes who she’s talking to and claps a hand over her mouth. 

Salem’s eyes narrow. “Back up a moment. The Relic of Creation is what’s holding Atlas in the sky?” She grimaces and looks away from Ruby’s eyes, and one hand goes to the pocket where her scroll rests. 

Ruby tilts her head slightly as she looks at her. “You didn’t already know that?”

“No… I don’t come here often, okay? I work from home.” 

“What has happened to all of you?” Ozpin practically growls. “Salem has stolen a Relic, and you don’t  _ care? _ Then at least stand aside!” He flicks his fingers again and three bursts of magic fly forth. 

Instantly white glyphs spring up in their path to intercept them before they reach their target. “No,” Weiss says with practiced calmness. “I trust my team leader. I agree with her assessment of our immediate priorities.”

Weiss steps up to take a position next to Ruby, and Blake follows just behind her. “Me too. I trust Ruby a lot more than I trust you.”

“Though that bar is not very high,” Yang mutters as she too joins her leader. 

“You can’t beat Salem in a fight,” Ruby reiterates. “Ever! Not even with silver eyes, I’ve used them around her already. So if you want her to stop dividing the world, you have to try something else. She’s already offered a way to end the destruction, and right now I’m willing to give her a  _ chance _ to prove she was telling the truth at our first meeting.”

The corner of Salem’s mouth turns upward and she unhooks the lamp from her sash. Holding it out to Ruby, she instructs, “Tell him what will happen if I no longer have a Relic. And what changes if I do have one.”

Ruby ignores the lamp being offered to her. “Salem says,” she begins, emphasizing the words, “that destruction was never her goal, and she only wants to keep the gods away. That means keeping the Relics apart, forever. If this is true, then as long as she has one, she doesn’t need the threat of Remnant’s destruction to prevent  _ you _ from uniting them. This is what she told me on the night we first met.”

“And you believed her lies…” Ozpin shakes his head. 

“I don’t know if I believe it yet,” Ruby retorts. “It’s a chance. If it turns out badly, we can try to reclaim the lamp later. But right now, when millions of lives are at risk elsewhere, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. Right now I’m not willing to sacrifice  _ anyone, _ not my team and not Mantle.”

She looks Salem in the eyes. “Keep it,” she says. “For now. For as long as you can behave yourself.”

In a flash of pale yellow, Ozpin vanishes from where he stood. Ruby recognizes the teleport and, not seeing a corresponding flash anywhere in front of her, whirls around. She catches a glimpse of yellow behind her as it fades back into Ozpin’s newest form, already reaching out to snatch the lamp from Salem’s fingers, and before her conscious mind even processes it, Ruby’s fist strikes hard into his metal face. 

“Ow!” Ruby recoils in pain, but her goal is accomplished. Still shaking her bruised hand, she helps Ozpin up from where he’d fallen, then keeps a solid grip on his wrist to lead him away. She lets go of him a good ten feet away from where he’d fallen, and returns to stand halfway between Ozpin and Salem. 

“Will  _ one _ of you please help us stop Ironwood and save Mantle?” she asks. It’s a good thing they’re all inside away from the Grimm, or her frustration right now would be calling to them. “At this point I really don’t care which one, I  _ just _ want those millions of people to stay  _ alive!” _

It’s the witch who speaks up first. “I suppose Arthur can sit in his cell a while longer. Where do you need to go?” She holds out a hand. 

Ruby takes it. “The vault,” she says. “That’s where Ironwood will be. Do you know where it is?” She turns halfway to look at her team, and offers a hand of her own. If they all join in a circle, a single teleport can probably take them there. 

“No, but I’m sure a bit of magic can help locate it.” 

Blake is hesitant to join the chain. “If we show up like this, that’s only going to confirm all the worst things Ironwood thinks of us.”

“What more can he do? He’s already calling for our arrests, dead or alive!”

Finally Ozpin has had enough. Watching a team he trusted as much as he ever trusts anyone seriously debate the possibility of working with Salem, even if they do  _ believe _ it would be for a good cause… that’s taking things too far. 

Did none of them learn a thing from what happened to Leo?

With just a hint of magic to enhance speed and strength, he dashes forward and brings his cane down hard on Ruby and Salem’s joined hands. The pair both pull back in pain, but Salem quickly retaliates with a fuchsia blast from her other hand which throws Ozpin back across the atrium. His fingers close around nothing, no golden ring atop a lamp that he could then magically escape with. 

Ruby interposes herself between the immortals again, arms spread wide. “No fighting!” she repeats. “Our friends went to a lot of trouble to put Ozpin  _ into _ that robot body, so don’t take him out of it! Don’t condemn some other unlucky kid to being his next life!”

She whirls around to face Oz instead. “And  _ you. _ If you don’t want us taking  _ her _ help, then you’d better make it worthwhile to take yours.” She marches over to grab him by the shoulder. “So. We are  _ going _ to the  _ vault.” _

Keeping an iron grip on him the whole way, Ruby pulls him to the nearest doorway. “Is that understood? We are  _ huntresses. _ We don’t take orders from anyone, we just save lives. In the  _ present, _ not some distant future. But clearly we didn’t learn that from our  _ headmaster.” _

“This isn’t over,” Ozpin warns. “I  _ will _ see both Knowledge and Creation secure. But I can’t deny that Mantle is in danger.” He fumes silently for a moment, then wrenches his arm free from Ruby’s grip. “This way. We’ll deal with the staff, then return before Salem makes her escape.”

Ozpin stalks off without a backward glance, leaving Team RWBY to hurry and catch up. Ruby lingers behind just a moment to give Salem a pointed look, hoping to convey both  _ leave the kingdom while you can _ and also  _ you had damn well better keep your word _ at the same time. Salem gives her a nod of respect in return, and walks off down a separate hallway. 

As the group leaves, Yang breaks the silence over the team. “So, was it just me, or… is Salem actually pretty hot?” Seeing Weiss and Blake’s glares, she throws up her hands. “What? I like women in black and white. You two should know!”

Still no one will voice an agreement, so she tries again. “Come on, Oz, back me up here! At least there’s  _ one _ thing we agree on, right?”

Ozpin doesn’t dignify that with a response.

* * *

Ticker decides not to ask Little Duck where she got the gravity bolas. This is only partially because no one else asked, and mostly because Cressa’s agent will be here soon with Tyrian in tow. 

“They’re coming!” That’s definitely  _ not _ Tyrian’s voice, so by process of elimination it has to be Lonee. “Come on, this way, there’s a hidden door!”

A lone woman with short, bobbed pink hair, topped off with cat ears not unlike Shadow’s, sprints into the alley. There’s not actually a hidden door to anywhere. There are no windows, no doors, no  _ anything _ that Tyrian can use to escape except by going back the way he came. So how is  _ she _ getting out of there?

No time to wonder about that now. He’s coming. 

Her cousin, who tried to murder Robyn Hill at  _ least, _ and neglected to mention the fact that he’d already killed hundreds of other people  _ that anyone knows of, _ is coming.

For all Ticker knows, he might not even be her cousin. She’d like to get some answers on that, actually, but  _ that _ can wait until he’s bound and the military’s on their way. 

If he was telling the truth, at least on them being related? Well, it’s not like it’ll have been the  _ first _ time Ticker’s biological family turned out to be utter shit. It’ll just be the first time she’s been able to get them arrested because of it.

Tyrian runs into the alleyway. Cressa readies her polearm, standing by the side of the roof  _ not _ inside the alley, and leaps off without a second thought. Ticker can’t tell if the crash from below means her landing strategy worked, or if she just didn’t have one. And just as she’s looking down at Lonee, thinking again how trapped she is behind Tyrian and his deadly tail and sword, her unvoiced question answers itself. 

Lonee steps away from the brick wall she’s been tapping at, pretending to open some secret passage, and stretches up. 

But honestly, just saying she  _ stretches _ up doesn’t really cover it. She  _ s t r e t c h e s _ up. Her body and clothes elongate until her outstretched hands meet those of another Fang agent, Ray if Ticker’s memory serves her, and then Lonee’s body compresses back to normal size to leave her standing on the edge of the roof. 

Ticker, for her part, suddenly understands why Cressa and Ray had been joking about ‘longcat’ earlier. As Ray and Lonee head out to get the authorities, Ticker seriously considers going looking for brain bleach. It probably doesn’t exist, but you never know. Maybe she’ll be lucky.

Tyrian seems to realize he’s been led into a trap. But he doesn’t seem concerned about it. He almost seems… excited. 

“It’s go time,” Cressa whispers to Ticker as she blinks down in a cloud of sparkles. “You ready?”

Ticker nods. Across the alleyway, having just come down from the  _ other _ roof, Eudico gives a two-fingered salute. Little Duck peers through the scope of her rifle up above, before eventually putting it away and nodding.

“Callow Tock,” Eudico says as she rounds the corner first, arms crossed across her chest and brave and beautiful as always.  _ “What _ have you been doing?”

“Oh, you know…” Tyrian shrugs carelessly. Even so, a hand goes to the sword on his back. He’s not as subtle as he thinks. “Just a spot of Vox-sanctioned murder here and there. Just the way you like it.”

“Right. I’ve just got a question for you. Did you  _ really _ think we wouldn’t find out who you really were…” Her voice changes to that of General Ironwood. “Tyrian Callows?”

“Not really.”

“Ironwood  _ did _ make that broadcast to the entire kingdom,” LD calls down. Apparently she doesn’t care about staying hidden. “Might have been a bit more dramatic to reveal you knew that  _ before _ the broadcast. Points for effort, though.”

_ “Little Duck,” _ Eudico says, slightly exasperated, in her normal voice.

“Gotcha.”

“So you’re siding with Ironwood? Consider me disappointed,” Tyrian shakes his head forlornly. “You’d side with the  _ human _ who, through inaction, allowed dear old Jacques Schnee to continue exploiting faunus like  _ us _ for money?”

“I’m just gonna point out that you work for the same person  _ Arthur fucking Watts _ does. You know, the  _ human _ who piloted Profit-Taker  _ for _ Jacques? But you wouldn’t know that, of course. You were oh so conveniently absent when the rest of us fought him.”

“And we aren’t siding with Ironwood.” Cressa steps around the corner and visibly rolls her remaining eye. “We’re siding  _ against _ the person who actively wants to destroy our home. Ironwood can wait. Salem  _ can’t.” _

Tyrian  _ laughs. _ “Oh,  _ you _ must be Cressa Tal! Not so interested in working with Her Grace after all, are you?”

“I mean, I’m all for badass women rising up against authority, but if the people that work for her are like  _ you? _ Like  _ Watts? _ Like  _ Adam? _ I think I’ll take my chances with the enemy I know before the one I don’t.”

“You’re outnumbered, outgunned, and considering that the authorities have been hunting you all night, your aura can’t be anything good.” Ticker finds her voice, finally. She cringes a little when Tyrian’s attention turns to her, but steps up beside Eudico to say, firmly, “Surrender now, and we won’t have to hurt you.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that, cousin dear?” Tyrian’s tail flicks back and forth behind him as he draws the sword he  _ definitely _ didn’t have last time she’d seen him. “What a shame. Her Grace liked you so much, too.”

With a maniacal cackle, he charges for Eudico. Ticker’s eyes flash pink, and in a flurry of sparkles she disappears. In the same instant, she reappears behind Tyrian, and strikes.

She doesn’t strike with a weapon, because she doesn’t currently  _ have _ a weapon on her besides a regular old gun. She doesn’t strike with her fist, tempting as it is, because she’s got something better: gravity bolas.

Tyrian goes down. His stolen sword clatters to the ground beside him, so close yet out of reach now that his arms are bound to his sides. His tail, unfortunately, isn’t. In another cloud of pink sparkles, Ticker returns to the group. She stumbles.

Eudico catches her. “Hey, nice work!”

“Thanks,” Ticker says breathlessly. For a few moments, as they stare into each other’s eyes, it’s like there’s nothing else in the world but them.

Then Little Duck appears from the shadows and clears her throat. “Hey, uh, hate to interrupt, but are we doing anything about that?”

Tyrian’s tail lashes out in Cressa’s general direction, then Eudico’s, then Ticker’s. It doesn’t stop moving. Of course it doesn’t. Tyrian can only see concrete at the moment, there’s no way he could know if they’re approaching or not.

Really, though, he  _ probably _ can’t get free from that. Not without help, anyway. Better not leave him unattended, though. 

“Authorities will be here in…” Cressa checks her scroll. “Five minutes. Anyone got the aura and the chutzpah to wrestle that into submission?”

“Nah,” says the sniper.

“Not particularly,” Ticker says.

“Definitely not.” Eudico takes a step back, even though they’re all well out of range. “That’s the military’s problem.”

Tyrian slowly wriggles forward, pushing himself inch by inch with his toes while his tail still lashes in all directions. “You traitors! Cowards! You don’t know what you’ve  _ done! _ The Goddess will free me. She’ll teach you all  _ respect!” _

“Oh, shut up.” Eudico alters her voice to perfectly mimic Tyrian’s own. “I can record your confession to anything I like, and then have LD shoot you. How does that sound?” Her voice switches back to normal. “Oh,  _ Void, _ I don’t know if I can actually stomach hearing  _ that _ come out of my mouth.”

Eudico shudders and takes another step back. “Ticker, you think you can grab that sword? Maybe whoever it belonged to  _ isn’t _ dead. Or a bootlicker. If they are, I suppose Vox can always use it.”

“On it.” Ticker sparkles her way in, grabs it by the handle, and teleports back out just in time. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Eudico takes it. “Pleasure working with you again, Cressa, but you’d better be going. Let those of us  _ without _ arrest warrants handle this.”

Cressa nods. “Good luck.”

Ticker realizes, long after Cressa’s run off, that she maybe wasn’t  _ just _ referring to directing the authorities. Or returning the weapon.

Maybe she won’t ask about that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Tyrian right now: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQ2dI_B_Ycg>
> 
> If anybody would like to volunteer to come and turn it off, that'd be just fine by me.


	30. Part 3 Episode 5: Not Another Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tundra group separates again and fly toward different goals in Atlas. Neo has some fun with ORNJ. Jaune does not have much fun with Neo. Robyn and Margulis try their best to recruit an ally. Watts gets his cell opened.

No rest for the recently resurrected. Clover paces back and forth in the snow, not meeting Qrow’s eyes, and when a call comes in on his scroll he eagerly takes it.

“Hare. What is it?”

“This is Marrow,” comes the reply. “Harriet’s is the only scroll I could reach. We’re... in a bit of a situation here.”

Clover hits a button to transfer the call to speaker, and waves the rest of the group over. “What exactly is your situation?”

“We’re, kind of… all piled into a small, dark... closet? I’m the lucky one on top. Only one who’s awake.”

“Who did this to you?”

“It was Team RWBY. We tried to arrest them, and… it… didn’t go well.”

Clover holds up a cautioning hand to Qrow. _Follow my lead,_ the gesture says. “Don’t worry about them. I’ve got Qrow Branwen in custody. They won’t go anywhere without their uncle.”

“Not much I can do anyway,” Marrow says. “Since, you know, bit tied up at the moment. Think you could give us a hand? Once you drop our friends off at the holding cells.”

“Tyrian escaped. He crashed our airship. We’re alright, though. On my way. Clover out.”

Clover shuts his scroll and glances around at the group. “Sounds like the kids are okay.” Then, to Qrow specifically, “You trained some damn good huntresses if they beat my team.”

“Yeah…” Qrow says, nodding slowly. “That they are.”

“The Happy Huntresses and I were on another mission when we saw the crash,” Biz speaks up. “I can fly everyone up to Atlas, but then we’ll split up again.”

Beside him, May shakes her head. “I might be able to help with Marrow. Lis, are you going to be okay if I go with them?”

“I’ll swap with you,” Robyn volunteers. “You’re going after one of Salem’s people?”

Qrow rolls his eyes. “One of her _real_ people, I hope. Not me or the kids.”

“That’s right.” Margulis pauses a moment, staring into the distance. Her face twitches beneath the mask and she tilts her head back and forth. “Man, I wish the non-keyboard controls weren’t so clunky. But take a look at this.”

She lifts the mask off her head and passes it to Robyn, who puts it on and gives her head a slight tilt to the right. “Never seen her before,” she says as she hands the mask back. “Though if I had, how would I know?”

“Who?” Clover holds out a hand, but Margulis keeps the mask and its recorded video to herself.

“Can’t say. That uniform may be slipping, but it’s still on. I’m not giving you any _more_ reason to arrest us all.”

“I see. Information obtained illegally. Just how long have you had the General’s office bugged?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Robyn thrusts out a hand toward Clover, faintly glowing with purple aura. Clover takes it. “None of the Happy Huntresses placed a listening or recording device in General Ironwood’s office, or asked for one to be placed on our behalf.”

The aura around their joined hands flickers green for just a moment, then shatters.

“Welp. Guess that’s all the honesty I had in me. Got to wait for it to come back.”

“Can we all just get up there already?” Qrow drawls. “We’re not helping anyone standing around in the tundra.”

“Right.” Biz waves. “Everyone onboard.”

“Not quite.” Qrow motions to the two in his group. “May, Cloves, come here. We’re going the fast way.”

May’s eyes narrow, but she does as she’s asked. And even not knowing the plan, she’s somehow the _less_ hesitant one to take Qrow’s hand.

“Theo, you’ll probably recognize this. The rest of you... Magic is real. Get used to seeing it.”

In an instant, the three of them vanish, and a single black bird flaps away into the sky.

* * *

Neo’s orders are simple. Find Ruby. Capture Ruby. And if any of Ruby’s friends show up on the way, kill them. 

That’s easy enough. The only one she’s fought before is the yellow-haired brawler, but she was a pushover. The others shouldn’t be any more difficult. And if they’ve improved since Beacon? So has Neo. 

Right now, she looks like any of the soldiers patrolling these halls, except for the fact that they all walk in pairs. With no idea where Ruby might be, the dorms are a sensible first place to check. Helpfully, each room is labeled with the name of the team it belongs to. 

Team SABL, team MLBR, team MRON, team FNKI, team CNMN… no sign of RWBY yet. But as Neo rounds a corner, it seems her luck has finally turned. Four of her friends are here – none Neo has seen up close before, but Cinder has an alarmingly thorough collection of photos of them all. 

They’re facing away from her, headed down the hall ahead. Warrants for these kids’ arrest are flashing on every screen in Atlas Academy, so they won’t trust a soldier’s uniform. But they’d trust Ruby, even if she’s alone and can’t raise her voice in greeting. 

Neo’s illusion shifts effortlessly, concealing her parasol as well under the image of Ruby’s folded scythe-gun. She runs forward, purposefully making her footsteps loud so her targets turn and recognize her, and feigns being out of breath to hide her silence as she slips into the center of the group. 

“Ruby! What happened?”

“Are the others with you?”

“Are you alright?”

“What’s Ironwood doing?”

Neo looks between the four young huntsmen (well, three and one huntress) and eyes their weapons. Hammer girl will be no issue, just like the brawler. Sword and shield is basic but functional, probably also slow. Dual-wielding boy is likely the most dangerous. It’s settled, then. Time to have some fun. 

The illusion over her parasol drops and she spins in a fast circle, knocking all four of her enemies back. The boy with the cane stumbles and falls. Neo turns her attention to the other green-clothed one instead, aiming a stab toward his face at the same time as a swift kick to the shins. 

“Ruby, what are y–”

A quick reaction from the sword and shield boy skims Neo’s side and breaks the illusion, just as she’s ducking under the other boy’s arm to slice her parasol’s blade across his side. She plants a foot on the wall and pushes herself upward, flipping over her foe’s shoulder. 

Directly into a hammer swinging upward at her. Neo tosses her parasol ahead of her and grabs the hammer’s shaft instead, angling her body to maximize forward movement and drop down just behind and to the side of the hammer girl’s feet. Intent on keeping her weapon in hand, she bends backward at the knees instead, but it only knocks her to the floor. 

Neo lets go and rolls backward as she lands, picking up her parasol again in the process, and the moment she’s on her feet again she lunges forward to stab toward the downed huntress’s neck. A shield is interposed between her and her mark, and the crescents emblazoned on its face flash white and release a burst of air dust that throws her backward. 

Well. That’s something to watch out for in the future. What other tricks do these children and their weapons have?

 _“Neopolitan.”_ Apparently the girl recognizes her. What was her name again? Cinder had never much cared to distinguish them, but Neo does prefer to know who she’s fighting. Noelle, was it? Something like that. 

“Nora, you know her?” Hmm. Her vague memory wasn’t _too_ far off. 

The one with the shield – James? John? – steps up in front of his teammates. “We haven’t exactly heard good things.”

Neo arches one eyebrow. She hasn’t heard good things about them either, not that she can actually _tell_ them that. Illusions flicker over her body: first Ruby, then Cinder, then with a slight pause to study her, Nora. 

The real Nora charges at her. Neo sidesteps her swing and retaliates with a jab to the back of her knee, before moving on to feint at the shield in her way and then leave it with nothing but a kick as she focuses her real assault on the one holding the cane. 

The boy blocks, but doesn’t manage to get any attack of his own out before Neo is away once again, ducking under two green blades to slide on her knees out to the edge of the group. Out of the corner of her eyes she catches a glimpse of the big hammer folding up, and presses the button on her parasol’s handle to flip it open just in time to catch two pink grenades on its surface. 

She shoves the wide open parasol directly into the cane boy’s face just to disorient him and push him away, but before she can pivot that into an assault on someone else, Nora’s hammer is on its way toward her yet again. Neo leaps upward and plants one foot on the hammer’s side, shoving it downward as she launches herself to the ceiling. 

A quick stab destroys the light fixture overhead, and her disguise shifts again in an instant as she drops back to the floor. Before anyone’s eyes have adjusted to the sudden shift, she’s wearing green and carrying a cane, and she grabs the taller green one’s arm and points down the hallway. 

“You saw her go that way? Come on, Oscar!”

It’s all the misdirection she needs. Dual wielding boy and cane boy – Oscar, apparently, the real one – run off that way, with Nora closely following. But Neo already has her Nora disguise back on to take the sword boy’s arm and pull him bodily in the other direction. 

She keeps the illusion up even as they pass back into light, and for now at least, her enemy seems content to follow her and separate further from his team. Neo rounds the upcoming corner first and sees two Atlesian guards up ahead, and thinking quickly, she stomps her feet on the floor to make noise and catch their attention. 

As the pair of guards turn and a young huntsman who has a warrant for his arrest rounds the corner, Neo shifts her appearance into that of an unarmed employee of Atlas Academy and pretends to be fleeing this boy’s unprovoked attack. 

“Halt! Jaune Arc, you are under arrest!” Perfect. They recognize him. 

“What? Nora…?” Jaune realizes too late that the girl he was following was not his teammate at all. He glances behind him, but the others are nowhere to be found. 

And as it occurs to him that a tactical retreat may be in order, Neo drops her helpless act and charges toward him again. Her reckless assault earns her a few blows of her own, but it succeeds in slowing Jaune down until the guards can get close. Neo disengages and lets them fight – and an interesting fight it is, as both guards seem to have no aura training at all and dodge every swing. 

“Ren, some help? Nora, Oscar?” 

Well, better finish this one off before the others show up. At least that settles the question of the last one’s name. Neo springs back into action, giving all three rapid-fire knocks on the head – and the guards fall, unprepared for any foe tougher than a small Grimm. 

Jaune hefts his sword in both hands and run in for a heavy overhead swing. Neo stows her parasol and pink sparkles ripple over her body instead, forming a perfect illusion of Ren to gaze at him with wide, helpless eyes. Jaune pulls his attack without thinking, and earns several hard jabs to his stomach that knock him down. 

The sound of returning teammates comes from around the corner, and Neo throws up a flat glass barrier in front of her painted with the image of the wall behind. The true Ren leads the way, only to be met with Jaune’s sword as he stands. 

“It’s me! I’m real!” he exclaims, jumping back with his hands up. 

Neo takes that moment to cancel her illusion and emerge from nowhere, hooking her parasol below Jaune’s outstretched hand to twist the blade out of his grip. It flies back a ways down the hall, and Neo takes off sprinting the other way with three pursuers close behind. 

She takes a zigzag route down several short corridors, dodging the occasional grenade from Nora’s launcher and absorbing Ren’s gunfire on her parasol. Jaune, after retrieving his sword, is probably following… somewhere. But he’s not here, and in this maze of an academy, it might be a while before he finds them all again. 

Neo twirls her parasol and flashes a smile. Toying with these kids really is fun, but it’s probably time she got serious about fighting them. The goal is to demoralize Ruby with their injuries or deaths, after all. 

She returns to the fray, trading blows with all three, weaving between them and over them in an attempt to make the team’s stray attacks hit each other. She doesn’t have much success in this directly, but it still forces them to slow their weapons and redirect, costing precious time and energy while Neo keeps her momentum going through dips and twirls. 

Finally she sees an opportunity. Oscar stumbles, and in an instant Neo is by his side. Cane and parasol clash between them, and Neo levers her body and weapon around to twist the cane out of Oscar’s grip and send him staggering backward. 

She leaps in with blade extended to strike a decisive blow, even if it means taking a hit on her back in the process – but instead a surprise comes from the front. Oscar throws his arms wide and a shimmering green orb bursts forth around him, translucent and overlaid with faint geometric patterns. 

Neo finds herself thrown back against the far wall. Oscar holds up his right hand and a narrow bolt of deep green lightning cracks from his palm to the cane some twenty feet away, and then his fingers close over the handle again as it returns of its own accord. Oscar lunges forward and jabs the tip of his cane into Neo’s stomach, following up with a flurry of quick pokes all over her body. 

Neo kicks him away and holds out her parasol to shield a short retreat. What _was_ that?

It seems Oscar’s teammates have the same question. “Holy shit, Oscar, was that – how did you do magic?”

“I don’t know!” Oscar cries, staring down at his own hands in shock. “He should have taken all that with him! I know he’s not in here anymore. It was just… instinct? Muscle memory? But not mine!”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” Ren points out. “Can you do it again?” 

Maybe this group wasn’t the best to take on alone. If this boy can do magic, from whatever source, for whatever reason, that means it’s better to send Cinder after him. At least she can match whatever that is with her own abilities. 

Neo takes a glance at her scroll’s aura meter. Yet another reason to step back. Either she’s taken more hits than she realized, or it’s just all those illusions that have been costing her. What was she thinking anyway, trying to kill some random other huntsmen just to get to Ruby? Why not just find her directly, Cinder’s delicate plots be damned?

She spins on her heel, throws up a painted glass wall across the hallway behind her, another to keep her hidden even as the first meets Nora’s hammer, and sprints away to conserve what little aura strength she has left. 

* * *

“They really made a mess of this place.” Clover frowns as he steps over the broken floor of the atrium.

“They’ve always been good at that,” Qrow agrees. “Ruby especially.”

“Glad she was okay. I know you were worried about that.” Clover hesitates before looking back at Qrow. “I didn’t really get a chance to say this earlier, not like I really wanted, but… thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Somehow, Qrow gets the feeling he’s not talking about him justifying the mess.

“No, I didn’t,” Qrow agrees. “But you know what? I’m glad I did. You mean a lot to me, bootlicking or not… but I prefer the Clover that actually thinks for himself.”

Clover smiles. He takes Qrow’s hand in his. “Me too.”

“Over here!” May calls. She tugs at a doorknob – stuck, but not insurmountable. It pops open and she jumps back on reflex as an unconscious Vine slumps forward at her.

Marrow is on top, yes, but not exactly upright himself. He’s laying on his stomach on top of Vine and Harriet, head facing away from the door, and the best he can do as a greeting is to wave one foot with a muffled hello.

“Well, they sure got all of you good,” Clover remarks. “Are the kids that strong, or did you just get… unlucky?”

“Not the time for luck puns,” Marrow groans. He squirms and tries to push himself up, but doesn’t get anywhere. “Just help me out of this closet, okay?”

“You’re bisexual,” Clover tells him matter-of-factly. 

“Wrong closet!” Marrow wriggles around to try to right himself, but still can’t. “Help me out of the _physical_ closet. Please?”

“I don’t know if we should,” Qrow says, as Clover helps his teammate at least roll over and sit up. “I swear, if any of you hurt my nieces...”

“I thought you said you had him in custody!”

Clover winks at the man beside him. “If I tie him up later, it won’t be to take him to jail.”

May steps back into view from one side, and stops shoulder to shoulder with Clover on his other side. “This is an intervention,” she states, looking Marrow in the eyes. “About your terrible habit of _just following orders.”_

“…May? What are you doing here?”

“She just told you,” Qrow says. “We’re doing some throat surgery to see if we can get Jimmy’s boot out of there.”

Clover extends a hand. Marrow tosses Harriet’s scroll behind him where it might eventually find her pocket again, then gratefully accepts the pull with his own bound hands.

“I realize the General gave us all some orders recently,” Clover says. “I can’t obey them. And I don’t think you should, either.”

May pushes the closet door shut again as far as it will go, but it won’t latch again. “When we knew each other at the Academy, you were smart and capable, and I respected you. But then you chose to join the military and threw away all those critical thinking skills, and took a lot of my respect with it. Also because you dumped me because you still thought you were gay and didn’t realize girls were cute too yet. You may be out of practice thinking for yourself – very much so – but I know you still have it in you. That’s why we’re bothering to get you out of there at all.”

“Ouch,” Marrow says. “That’s the kind of harsh-but-true that can only come from an ex.”

May crosses her arms over her chest. “You never dated _me,”_ she huffs. “You only dated the boy I was pretending to be. And then I realized I didn’t have to pretend anymore.”

Marrow’s tail droops and presses against the back of his legs.

“That’s enough, you two.” Clover raises one hand. “I understand the General wants to cancel the Amity project and raise all of Atlas in its place. I can’t condone that – not unless the situation were a _lot_ more dire. And even then, it’s hard to believe the staff is worth more than a million lives.”

He purses his lips for a moment in thought, and continues. “That’s assuming Salem could even access the staff anyway. I heard that Operative Schnee was sent to take the Winter magic already. But what I _really_ don’t understand is why he’s turned on our new allies like this.” 

Marrow frowns. “Because at least one of them – and the evidence is undeniable – has been working with Salem. She appeared to us all as some kind of phantom. And she and Ruby _knew_ each other. It was obvious. That’s why we were told to arrest them.”

“Why you were told to _kill_ them?” Qrow snaps. “Did it occur to any of you that she’s being _framed?_ You know, just like Jimmy was, for killing protestors? Like Penny was, for attacking Robyn? Dividing us like this is just what Salem wants!”

Marrow opens his mouth to protest again, then stops himself. Qrow didn’t see what the Ace Ops did, so there will be no convincing him. 

“Now,” May begins, “I’m a little new to the whole Salem situation, so explain to me in your own words: why is it so critical to keep the Relics away from her? Can you tell me that, _without_ any reference to ‘because Ironwood or Ozpin or whoever said to’? Why is the staff here so valuable?”

“She’s the master of the creatures of Grimm,” Marrow says like it’s obvious. “Almost looks like one herself, and she certainly seems intent on destroying the kingdoms. Would you want her to have more power?”

May shrugs. “Okay, fair enough point. Anything else?”

“Well… if she tries to actually _use_ the staff, it will drop Atlas out of the sky. That’s a thing too, I guess.” 

“That’s true for _anyone_ using the staff,” Qrow points out. “It does one thing at a time, and right now holding Atlas is it.” 

May gapes at both of them for a moment, then just shakes her head. “Alright. If you say so. So if nobody should ever use it again, and the Winter Maiden is the only one who can access it – right?”

Qrow nods. 

“Then shouldn’t you focus more on _stopping_ the Winter Maiden from opening the vault, no matter who that is or who she reports to? Salem can’t take the staff unless she takes the Maiden. And now Winter Schnee is going to go kill that Maiden and become the next one?”

“That’s right,” Clover confirms. 

_“Why is she even kept in Atlas at all?”_ May throws up her hands. “That’s the dumbest move Ironwood’s made yet! Just send the Maiden somewhere else and then nobody can crash Atlas by using the staff. Why not have her in Vale, if Ironwood takes orders from Ozpin?”

Marrow cocks his head slightly. “You know… that makes a lot of sense. Why _is_ she here? So we can protect her, obviously, but… it’s not like the Ace Ops are standing at her door all the time. Her guard is more secrecy than military.”

“That’s a mistake from years ago,” Clover says. “We need to focus on the mistakes of today. We may answer to the General, but we are _huntsmen._ We’ve got a city that’s depending on us–” He indicates May with one hand. “–allies who are willing to help us–” He gestures to Qrow with the other. “–and if our orders say to abandon both?”

Marrow sighs deeply. “Then those are bad orders,” he finishes. 

“And I’m going to tell the General that. Hopefully he’ll reconsider.”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Qrow mutters. 

“You can come with me. If he _doesn’t_ reconsider… I may need the backup.”

May extends a hand to Marrow. “While they do that, I’d prefer to check out the Winter Maiden. Stop the bad plan a few steps earlier. You know Schnee better than I do, and you know exactly where she is. Let’s go.”

Marrow holds up his hands, still bound in gravity bolas. “Um… You think you could…”

May swats Clover’s hand away from the cuffs. “I’ll untie you when I’m _convinced_ you’re on our side. And I’m walking behind you where you can’t point at me. Got it?”

Marrow sighs again. “Fine. And them?” He tilts his head back toward the rest of the Ace Ops, still piled into the closet. 

“They’re a problem for later. Let’s go see what’s happening with the Winter Maiden.”

* * *

“Anything yet?”

Margulis shakes her head. “The cameras in here are secured better than the ones on the streets. I can only get into every fourth one. And I _really_ just need to start bringing a wireless keyboard with me on missions. Typing with twitches of my facial muscles is so _slow.”_

“And we know she’s still out there.” Robyn sighs. “I don’t think I’ve set foot in this place since graduation. Not sure I know my way around anymore.”

Walking beside her, Biz nods gravely. “The view you got of the holding cells was good, even if the illusion girl wasn’t there.”

“Wait.” Margulis stops at an intersection and points down to the right. “Signs of a recent fight, in what I’m pretty sure is this way. Could have been her.”

“What sort of signs?”

“Two soldiers, unconscious or dead. Some burn marks. They were facing towards us when they went down.”

Robyn readies her weapon and makes sure she has spare bolts within easy reach. Biz rests one hand on the set of gravity bolas at his belt, but does not yet pick them up. His aura flares briefly, just a test to check its strength without a scroll, and he frowns and continues on. 

Margulis pauses again at the next intersection and studies a posted map, comparing it in her mind to the myriad internal views she’s seen of Atlas Academy. She tentatively starts onward in the same direction she had come, but Biz catches her arm. 

“Left,” he says. “I hear something.”

Footsteps. Closer now, so Robyn and Margulis can hear as well. Just a single set, in high heels. The group starts toward them, everyone’s weapons in hand. 

A lone woman comes around the corner, running, and skids to a stop in front of them. She wears the uniform of Atlesian guards, but with a decidedly nonstandard bowler hat over it. Her mismatched eyes widen and she turns on her heel to sprint away again, but stumbles as the blunt tip of one of Margulis’s clubs catches her in the side. 

The uniform shimmers and cracks like glass, and vanishes into sparkling shards before she even hits the floor. Beneath the illusion is a low-cut white jacket with disconnected sleeves, and a gray bandana tied loosely around her neck. 

The same outfit seen in the video of Ironwood’s office. This is her. Pink sparkles rise over her body again as she stands, but barely reach her waist before cracking and disappearing once again as the aura powering her illusions runs out. 

Robyn lunges around her to block her escape, crossbow aimed with a bolt pulled back. Margulis and Biz step apart to cover more of the hallway, and Margulis shifts one of her clubs into its other form. 

The woman with the parasol looks at each of them in turn, ending on Robyn. The other two may be strangers, but this is the new Councilwoman. The one who vocally opposed Ironwood. What’s she doing here?

“Give it up,” Robyn commands. “You’re outnumbered and your aura is down. I’d rather not have to hurt anyone.” But her crossbow remains up, just in case she does have to. 

“We’re not with the military,” Biz says. “But I’ve dealt with Salem’s people before. If you–”

The woman bristles at this and shakes her head, but still remains silent. 

Margulis puts her clubs across her back and steps forward with empty hands outstretched. “You’re not with Salem? Then why leave a black queen in Ironwood’s office?” She’s met with a parasol pointed at her chest, and Margulis backs off with hands still raised. “We don’t want a fight,” she pleads. “Please don’t make us.”

Another slow turn to stare at each of the three. No one blinks. Robyn still has her crossbow ready, and Biz has fists clenched by his side in a calm but still clear threat. But Margulis takes the mask off her head and tucks it under one arm, and by the time their enemy comes back to face her again, in place of a weapon she has only a kind smile and a single offered hand. 

The parasol slips from its owner’s fingers and falls to the floor. 

Margulis and Robyn both let out a sigh of relief. “Now,” Margulis says as she steps forward again to gently take the agent’s arm and lead her off to the side, “I’m Lis. That’s Robyn, and Bishop. What’s your name?”

Silence, an eyeroll, and a finger pointed at her throat. 

“…Oh. Um. My sign language is not very good.” Margulis leans against the wall, and guides her prisoner beside her as she slides down to sit on the floor. Robyn picks up the parasol and sits on the other side, laying the weapon along the wall out of its owner’s reach. “Got a scroll? I don’t mind texting.”

Only Biz remains standing. “If you two have got the situation under control, there’s something else I want to take care of while I’m here.”

Robyn nods, and looks up from where the first message shows in her scroll. “Go ahead. We’ll be fine here with Neo.”

* * *

Why does an Academy have its very own holding cells? There’s no need for that in a place of learning. What has James done to this place? This kingdom? 

Still, Theodore Berzins and James Ironwood were friends for many years. It shouldn’t be too hard to guess the passcode. Not his birth year. Not the date he became General. Not the words ‘Atlas’, ‘staff’, ‘winter’, or even ‘Ozpin’. 

The word ‘choice’, translated to numbers as if on a scroll keypad. Not a reference to the Relic, the one Ozpin kept by his side at Beacon. A different choice… the one James had always said was the hardest of his life. The choice upon graduation to become a huntsman over a soldier. To put the lives of ordinary people before the glory of his beloved kingdom, or any other concern whatsoever. 

And now look at him. The man who had become Headmaster years before he was a General, swearing to protect lives at any cost… has let fear consume him and strayed so far from that huntsman path. 

The cell door slides open and a man formerly known as Theodore steps inside. Another man sits slumped in the corner – battered, semi-conscious, but not _seriously_ hurt – and raises his head to get a look at the visitor. 

“Arthur Watts.” The cell shuts again automatically. 

“Teshin…?” Watts’s eyes narrow. “Her Grace said you betrayed us, years ago. Have you returned?”

Watts begins to stand, but is met with a swift kick to the shoulder that sends him sprawling. 

“No. Is that the name of the impostor who replaced me?”

Watts’s breath catches in his throat. “You’re the _real_ Theo Berzins… But Teshin killed you!”

“And the Paladin Incident killed _you.”_ The two survivors stare at each other. “I go by Bishop here. Or Biz, if you must.”

“What do you want?”

Biz doesn’t answer, instead merely gazing down at the Grimm claw sticking out from the bottom of Watts’s pants leg. “Odd choice for a Grimm augment,” he remarks. 

Watts grits his teeth. “It wasn’t a choice. Profit-Taker’s escape pod crashed and broke my leg.”

“Profit-Taker…” Biz pulls up his own pants leg to reveal a metal prosthetic from mid-shin down. “Looks like you got it worse than me. But at least I lived. Unlike my friend Rudy.”

“The rabbit?”

This earns him another kick, with the metal foot this time. Biz’s heel connects with the middle of Watts’s chest and a loud bang goes off, and suddenly Watts is against the back wall with bright green aura shattering around him. 

“Not much time to recover after the fight that put you in here, hmm?”

But Watts is preoccupied with a different question. “You have a _gun_ in your _foot?”_

Biz frowns. “I do. Do you know who put it there?” He pauses a moment, still staring Watts down and daring him to give an answer. “I had to install it myself. Because _you killed my friend Rudy.”_

He grabs Watts by the collar and hauls him up to direct a furious stare into his eyes from mere inches away, then tosses him unceremoniously into the middle of the cell and steps forward to plant his metal foot firmly on the scientist’s chest. Watts feebly tugs at his ankle, but cannot make it budge. 

“Lionheart was a pushover,” Watts taunts. “And Ironwood even more of a coward, in the end. That’s the kind of people Ozpin appoints to be headmasters, just like him. You think you’re any stronger?” 

Biz only raises one eyebrow in response. “I’ve never been much of a believer in an afterlife,” he says, calmer now. “But right now I hope there is one, just so the Zuud sisters can find you again, all together.” 

He lifts up the weight on his prosthetic just a little, then stomps down again hard. There is a muffled bang, and Watts goes limp beneath him. 

Biz lets out a ragged sigh and leans down to shut the scientist’s glassy eyes. Then, without another backward glance, he opens the cell door again and departs, leaving half a set of bloody footprints in his wake. 

* * *

Robyn, Margulis, and Neo all sit around a table in one of the Atlas Academy dorms. With all the soldiers running around on high alert, the middle of some random hallway maybe wasn’t the best place to talk. 

Well, type. Even though only one of the three is mute, they all agreed it was probably more polite to match communication styles. 

“When I saw you place the chess pieces, I assumed you were with Salem,” Margulis types. “Bishop said that’s her symbol.” 

Neo summons an illusion in her hand of a black queen on its side, with a black bishop behind it. The bishop morphs into a tiny image of a woman with an eyepatch and a ball of flame in her one visible hand. 

“Cinder,” Neo types back after dispelling the illusion. “She used to be with Salem. Not anymore.”

“So… why are you here? What does Cinder want now?” Robyn’s eyes narrow as her thumbs tap out a message. 

“Revenge.” 

Robyn’s head jerks back from her screen a little, and she frowns. “Uh, okay,” she says aloud. 

“On who?” Margulis asks. 

Neo stands up, leaving her scroll on the table. A pink cloud sparkles over her body, and as it passes leaves behind an illusion of… 

“Ruby?” Margulis stares as Neo returns to her normal look. “I’ve met her,” she types. “What did she ever do?”

Neo glances at her scroll, and remains standing. She shifts into a copy of Cinder as she looked two years ago, and mimes shielding her face with her left hand as her semblance ripples over her again to turn that arm and eye invisible. Another change puts on an eyepatch and a cape over her left side. 

“Ruby… did that?” Margulis asks aloud. “How?”

Neo glares at her, and marches over to point two spread fingers at Margulis’s eyes. 

“Silver eyes?” Robyn is just as confused. “But we were told they only work on Grimm?”

Neo only shrugs. She dispels the illusion of Cinder and replaces it with another: a tall man with bright orange hair, and the same hat Neo herself wears. Her scroll floats up off the table and hovers in front of the illusion’s waist – held in Neo’s invisible hands, too far below the illusion’s to keep it in sync with her. 

“Ruby also killed my father,” she types. 

“What?” Robyn’s fingers fly as she writes out a response. “We met her not long ago. She didn’t seem the type to be able to kill anyone.”

“Right after she threw me off the side of an airship.” Neo points at the parasol resting across Robyn’s lap, and mimes being blown away in the wind as she cancels her latest illusion. “During the Fall of Beacon. After being an annoyance to my father’s operations for a full year.”

“Forgive me, but that just seems hard to believe,” Margulis writes. “Did you actually _see_ her do it? Have you talked to her since then?”

Neo’s eyes narrow, and she shakes her head. 

“Would you like to?” Robyn asks. “I have her number.”

Neo sits back down. She turns her scroll over in her hands, thinking, and finally types out the single word, “Fine.”

Robyn switches message windows and types out a quick note to Ruby, but it won’t go through. Maybe her scroll is turned off? But why? No matter. Robyn has a contact for her friend Nora too, and it just takes a minute for Nora to check for herself and then relay from Blake that the scroll they were trying to text was shot to pieces. 

At least Blake was able to give them the number of her speedily acquired replacement, so Robyn can send her a message anyway. “Hey Ruby, this is Robyn. Do you know someone named Neopolitan? She’s here with me right now.”

The response comes almost immediately. “Are you okay?”

Robyn turns her scroll around for Neo to read, and gets a silent laugh. Neo glances between her and Margulis, gestures to her parasol, and shrugs. 

“Sounds like she knows who you are,” Robyn says. “And she thinks you’d beat me in a fight. And who knows, you might. But let’s not test it, okay?”

She turns her attention back to her scroll. “I’m fine, we’re just having a nice chat. Lis is here too. Neo says you killed her father?”

“Who?” 

Neo holds out her hand, and Robyn passes the scroll over. “This is Neo,” she types, glowering at the screen. “You murdered Roman. And you will pay for it.”

There is a pause this time before Ruby answers. “He was your dad?!”

“We adopted each other. Roman put a roof over my head. I kept him out of jail again. Together we always had food on the table. He was the only person to ever care about me, and _you_ took all that away.”

“I’ve never murdered anyone!” Ruby protests. “Do you mean when I confronted you both on the airship? I didn’t stand a chance against either of you.”

“You threw me off the edge and I never saw him again. There’s only one conclusion.”

“No, there’s two!” Ruby’s messages come in quickly in short sentences. “We did fight. But he won! You didn’t see. He beat me and then he started talking and then a Grimm got him from behind!”

Neo freezes. Roman did always love the sound of his own voice. But that can’t be true. It _can’t_ be. Neo drops the scroll on the table and slides it across to Robyn, then crosses her arms over her chest. 

After a moment she picks up her own scroll again and types a comment. “She’s lying. To me and to both of you. She was chasing my father down since the moment they first met.”

Robyn and Margulis exchange another glance. “My semblance is a lie detector,” Robyn says. She holds out her hand across the table, glowing lavender, and Margulis takes it. 

“Two plus two is four.” The purple glow flashes green. “Two plus two is five.” The aura turns red. “See? It works on the speaker’s belief so you can’t ask about something neither of you knows, but something Ruby saw with her own eyes? Or possibly did with her own scythe? Next time I see her, we can get an answer.”

Neo’s shocked expression hardens again into a sneer. 

“Hear her out? Please?” Robyn texts another message to Ruby: “This is Robyn again. Some time soon, could we meet up? Going to need my semblance for a bit.”

“Kind of busy saving Atlas and Mantle right now,” comes the response. “My team’s about to head into the vault to confront Ironwood. He’s not going to be happy the Ace Ops failed to arrest us.”

“Good luck. Keep me updated when you can.”

Robyn sets down her scroll and extends a hand again, and Neo rolls her eyes but takes it. “I can’t condone murder. No matter who’s doing it to whom. Which means I can’t let you attack Ruby, but at the same time, if she _did_ kill your father? I’d support you in taking nonviolent legal actions against her. But justice requires the truth, and we need to hear both sides of the story. If it turns out she _didn’t_ kill him, it really was the Grimm, then what would you do?”

Neo picks up her scroll in her free hand and slowly types out a message with one thumb. “I don’t know. What else could I do? Isn’t it still her fault both of us were on the roof to begin with?”

The aura surrounding their joined hands remains the same neutral lavender that it returned to once Robyn was done speaking truth. 

“Huh, doesn’t work on text. Good to know. Bit inconvenient here, though.” She lets go of Neo’s hand. 

Before she can get her own scroll back in hand, Margulis sends a message to the group. “Against the Grimm, we are all on the same side. No huntress in training would willingly let them take a man. Certainly not one with eyes that kill Grimm whenever she thinks too hard about protecting all life.”

She looks at Robyn, intently, and after a moment of silence Robyn gives a tiny nod. But whatever passed between them, Neo picks up on it and gives Margulis a questioning look and a frown. 

“I understand it’s hard to lose someone you cared about, no matter how it happens,” Margulis types. “Think about the good times with Roman. He gave you safety, stability, companionship? A sense of purpose, even?”

“All of that and more,” Neo responds. “He cared about me. No one else would. Who stops to help the tiny girl on the street who can't even say thank you for the crumbs they throw to her? Nobody, that’s who! Until Roman.”

“Revenge won’t bring Roman back. But there’s something else that could bring you those feelings again. It won’t be the same – it can’t be – but it can still be what you need.” Margulis gives Robyn another pointed look, as if conveying even more information in the gesture than even Neo can. 

Robyn picks up her own scroll. “As long as you’re not trying to kill anyone… You could join us in the Happy Huntresses. I don’t need to see you fight to tell you have the skills. We live comfortably enough, everyone looks out for each other. I guarantee you wouldn’t be left out or overlooked, ever again.”

Neo’s eyes widen, and Robyn scrambles to offer a hand to her girlfriend again. “The offer is real,” Robyn says, and the aura over their hands turns green. “We don’t care what your background is like. All we would ask is that you commit to doing good in the present. If you wanted to leave Cinder, you could even have the five of us watching your back if she comes for you.”

Neo’s gaze is skeptical as she picks up her scroll again. “One thing at a time,” she types. “First let me see Ruby take your hand.” 

* * *

Where is Watts? Ironwood wouldn’t have killed him. 

He went to Amity. He fought, and lost, and his bag ended up in the General’s office. Just as intended. And Watts himself would be… not in a regular jail cell. Ironwood would keep him close. 

That’s why Salem came to Atlas Academy in person, right after her magical projection to the same place ended. There are no holding cells marked as such on the campus map, of course, but there _is_ a series of rooms near the headmaster’s office that look too small to be dorms. 

Her guess pays off. Salem pushes through a door marked _Military personnel only_ and finds herself in a hallway lined with cells – one of them with its door standing open. Maybe Watts already broke himself out?

Apparently not. 

Watts lays face up on the floor, a gunshot wound in his chest, and Salem sighs. There’s not much she can do with him now, except maybe pump Grimm liquid into his veins to create a puppet to scare the military with. It wouldn’t be him, though. Just a mindless beast in a Watts suit. 

“What happened to you…” Salem sits down on the floor next to her dead agent. “I suppose this means you didn’t manage to sabotage the Amity CCT? And they clearly fixed the regular one, seeing as Ironwood got his announcement out. You could have done a better job of that.”

No response comes from the dead man by her side. 

“We have the Relic of Knowledge,” Salem continues to muse aloud. “But Creation… if it’s really holding Atlas in the sky, then how can I take it? I don’t want to drop the city. I want fear, disagreement, conflict… not guaranteed death. The dead cannot demand blessings while still fighting amongst themselves.”

Salem rests her head in her hands. “I suppose if Atlas flees into the upper atmosphere, that also prevents the Relics’ unification. I wouldn’t need the staff in hand. But it _would_ condemn Mantle to an icy, Grimm-filled end. Unless…”

A smile spreads over the witch’s face. “Unless I turn the General’s folly to my own ends. He declared himself and me to be enemies. If he then abandons half his kingdom… I could announce my presence and rule as Mantle’s welcomed savior. They’re united against a common enemy, but it wouldn’t be difficult to flip the identity of that foe. They’ve hated him for years anyway. What do you think, Arthur? Shall we leave Perditus and establish our new base of operations on Solitas instead?”

Watts still does not say a word. Typical. He always knew his position was precarious enough that he shouldn’t rock the boat with his own opinions. Not the way Hazel could often get away with. 

He also happens to be dead, but that doesn’t make him _that_ much quieter than usual. 

“Although, on the other hand, Team RWBY is now intent on stopping General Ironwood. The people who were at both Beacon and Haven and survived both… they might just succeed here as well. Meaning Atlas would stay where it is, and thus my priority would be to control the Winter Maiden. But Cinder will be going for her as well, and while I don’t _think_ she can be two Maidens at once…”

Salem rolls her eyes and lets out a long breath. “Forget the staff,” she mutters to the air. “Ozpin can’t use it either, unless he puts Atlas back on the ground first. I’d hear about that. What I _need_ is the crown. Which means I need a more reliable Fall Maiden. If Cinder survives tonight, I’ll call Ruby and we can try again. This time with as many non-eligible friends as she wants to bring.”

She glances at Watts’s peaceful closed eyes. “I know you never much cared for Cinder, but you won’t be helping with that task now. Ruby and her friends can handle it. She defended me right to Ozpin’s face, you know. And her team all followed her. I’d call that a great success.” She raises one eyebrow at the corpse. “At least _one_ of us managed to carry out our mission.”

“What’s that you say? The cost?” Salem shrugs. “I made her one good promise, that’s all it took. Do I intend to keep it? If recruitment phase two is to go ahead, I’ll have to. But it’s not a serious burden. Not if Ruby is already keeping Oz in check to an extent. So long as the Relic of Knowledge can be secured, I can afford to slack off with the destruction for the next lifetime or so.”

Salem finally reaches out to rifle through the dead scientist’s pockets. His scroll is here, but his pistol is missing. Why confiscate that but leave him able to communicate with the outside world? He still has one ring on his hand, and fragments of a few others in his inside jacket pocket, but there’s not enough left to use. Better take them anyway though, just so the military can’t reverse-engineer them and build defenses. 

“You served your purpose well, Arthur,” she says softly. “Well enough, anyway. I doubt I’ll need another technology expert for several years yet. Although…” She stands, and takes a step back from the body on the floor. “While I’m in Atlas, maybe I should pick up some books on programming. I do have all the time in the world to study, after all.”

She gives one last, solemn look down at her former agent, then thrusts out one hand toward Watts’s body. A wide cone of hot pink flame erupts from her palm, held steady until any trace of the man’s presence is long since burned away. 

“Goodbye, Dr. Watts, finest mind in Atlas.” A sweep of her hand erases the scorch mark on the floor. “Now, let them all believe you’ve cheated death once again. Carry out this one last mission for me, and rest knowing that all your efforts were – mostly – enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No F in the chat for Watts. Is it possible to put negative Fs in the chat?


	31. Part 3 Episode 6: Forces of Attraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Maiden gets several unauthorized visitors, and so does General Ironwood. Willow Schnee worries about her daughters. Ironwood and Cinder both put up a good fight despite having only one arm each. Reinforcements arrive to both fights just in time.

“Weiss…” Winter stares at her scroll. “What did you  _ do?” _

“The General wants to arrest our friends? And he’s leaving Mantle to die?” Beside her, Penny accesses her internal CCT connection with increasing concern. 

Winter sighs and continues toward the Maiden’s room. “Moving Atlas will keep the Relic away from Salem. I don’t know what happened with your friends, but the General is making hard choices so the rest of us don’t have to.”

“The alert said wanted dead or alive.” Penny stops short again, forcing Winter to take her by the arm. “The General  _ never _ orders that. Not even for the two agents of Salem they arrested earlier.”

Winter pulls her along faster. “Weiss is a competent huntress. So is your friend Ruby, somehow. You can worry about them once our orders are complete.”

“Our orders… to abandon Mantle. That doesn’t  _ bother _ you?”

“Our personal feelings don’t matter.” Winter squares her shoulders and looks straight ahead. “The General is in command. We’re to retrieve the power of the Winter Maiden.”

“It  _ should _ matter. I am the Protector of Mantle. I cannot just let them perish.” Penny wrenches her arm out of Winter’s grip as the pair approach the door. “The General is  _ wrong.” _

Winter still has her scroll in hand, and gazes down at the notice displayed on it once again. “On that much, we can agree,” she says softly. 

Fria is asleep when they enter. Penny moves to wake her, but is stopped by Winter. Just a solemn shake of the head, nothing more.  _ It will be better this way. _

Together they maneuver her into the left chamber of the transference machine. Fria stirs, but does not quite wake. Penny stares into her peaceful, closed eyes, and without moving her gaze she murmurs, “General Ironwood should be here right now.”

“Hmm? Why?”

“He’s given an order that would lead to countless needless deaths. And yet  _ we’re _ the ones asked to take a life, right now.”

Winter sighs, and presses a few buttons on the device’s keypad. “I hope it will be painless for her. We may  _ have _ our personal feelings, we may  _ wrestle _ with them, but we cannot allow them to change our actions.”

“The General should be here,” Penny repeats more forcefully. “He should have to look this woman in the eyes and  _ tell her _ that millions must die. He should be the one to operate this machine.”

Suddenly, the room shakes with a distant explosion. Another comes just after it, and another. Each harder – closer – than the last. 

Winter shoves Penny out of the way to get at the keypad by the door, and seals the entrance with metal. But it does no good, as a hole is blasted straight through as if the steel were nothing more than paper. 

_ “Cinder.” _ Winter names the intruder standing in the gaping hole, with a fireball floating over her single hand. 

Cinder smiles. “Both of Ironwood’s puppets. Lucky me.” She tosses the fireball into the air and catches it again. 

Penny brings out her swords. “You were responsible for Beacon. For what happened to me.”

A sly smile crosses Cinder’s face. “Oh,  _ I’m _ not the one who killed you…” The fireball dissipates and she thrusts her hand out to the side. Red light flares, and condenses into the form of a young woman bearing a spear and shield. 

Penny’s eyes widen as she takes a step back, and her floating swords waver. 

_ “Pyrrha is.”  _

* * *

There’s one very noticeable difference, Yang thinks, between the vault at Atlas Academy and the one at Haven. When you’re in the elevator down into it, the whole front is open so you can see down into the vault the entire time. Haven’s only opened up near the bottom – and according to Jaune, the Beacon vault had no visibility at all. 

It’s pretty, and certainly a marvel of engineering to have a cavity this large inside solid rock without a single support… but the view comes with a price. Anyone already down below can see who’s coming nearly a full minute before they arrive. General Ironwood has nearly a full minute to stare, and pace, and fume before Team RWBY steps out to face him. 

They keep their weapons sheathed, for now. Winter isn’t here yet. Without her, Ironwood’s devastating sacrifice cannot go ahead. But the defiance in the four girls’ eyes is the same as any time they’ve faced an enemy together. If the General won’t back down now, an enemy is exactly what he’ll have made himself. 

Whether intentionally hiding himself or simply reluctant to face down an old friend, Ozpin hangs behind. 

“So the Ace Ops are dead.” Ironwood can’t seem to muster any emotion in his voice even for this grim assumption. 

“They’re tied up and in a closet,” Yang counters. “We don’t want to hurt anyone – unlike you, who apparently have no problem with ordering them to kill us.”

Ozpin pushes through between Weiss and Blake. “James,” he begins. 

“Ozpin?! You’re alive?”

His astonishment is met with a simple nod. “James, what’s happening here? What’s caused the loss of trust between you and this team? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can still work it out, together.”

“There’s nothing to work out.  _ Those four _ are working for  _ her. _ It’s as simple as that.”

Ozpin and Ironwood both take steps toward each other, as Team RWBY stay frozen where they are. “They have been tempted,” Ozpin says. “They have made mistakes – a terrible one, just now, though less than it could have been. But they are still huntresses. Even in their folly, they still take the side of life.”

Ironwood’s eyes narrow. “Do you intend to fight me too?”

“No. Neither do they.” Ozpin clicks the trigger of his cane to shrink its length back into the handle, and he hangs it on his belt. 

Yang snorts. “Don’t count on that,” she mutters softly to her team. 

“Turning us against each other is just what she wants,” Ozpin cautions. He steps right to match Ironwood moving to his left, and the pair slowly begin to circle each other. “I know you’re afraid. We all are. But it’s what we  _ do _ in our fear that–”

_ “That’s _ easy for  _ you _ to say!” Ironwood’s scowl deepens as he continues his wide circle. “But my actions in your absence were  _ right! _ I had a team I could trust. I had a plan. But the  _ moment _ I softened, I took my eyes off the goal because Qrow convinced me to help these  _ children, _ that’s when Salem got her fingers into Atlas. She’s been pulling us apart ever since. They’ve been helping her.”

“We have  _ not!” _ Weiss protests. “We want to stop her, just like you!”

“Mantle and Amity are our best chance at reuniting the world,” Blake pronounces. “You would abandon that? You would abandon  _ Remnant?” _

Ozpin holds up both hands in a nonthreatening gesture. “Miss Belladonna is right. You would leave millions to fend for themselves. Their newfound knowledge that Salem exists is not itself enough to fight her. They need Atlas.”

“They’ll die  _ anyway _ if Salem wins,” Ironwood counters. “Better a few survive than none.”

“It doesn’t have to be so few. Stay and we can fight her. If the Winter Maiden is safe, then so is the staff. The war has come here and there  _ will _ be casualties, but  _ count _ them, James! A thousand? Ten thousand? Even a hundred thousand to recapture the lamp is better than sacrificing an entire kingdom!”

“What is wrong with both of you?” Ruby cries.  _ “Nobody _ has to die here! Haven’t you ever thought to  _ talk _ to Salem and work things out?”

“Silence, traitor!” Ironwood’s slow pacing has made a full quarter turn now, so he and Ozpin stare at each other from opposite sides of the narrow walkway. “I’m not interested in a fight we’ll  _ maybe _ win. My plan  _ will _ keep the Relic safe. One hundred percent.”

“Listen to me, James–”

“No,  _ you _ listen!” Ironwood advances a step directly toward Ozpin. “If you couldn’t trust me with the truth of what she is, then I am  _ done _ taking orders from you. If even you can’t see the big picture… then I will do what’s  _ right, _ without you.”

In an instant, Ironwood’s white gun is in his hand, and he fires a single bullet directly into Ozpin’s chest. The robot stumbles back two steps under the impact, right to the edge but not quite over it. Ironwood drops the pistol at his feet and draws its black twin, and shoots a gravity round behind him to propel himself across the width of the platform. 

Team RWBY, stunned, start to draw their weapons as well. Ozpin does the same, but his cane is barely even extended before Ironwood slams into him. With a whip of the gun across his metal face, Ozpin stumbles another step back, and finds no ground beneath his foot. He topples off the edge, and Ironwood turns away before he’s even out of sight. 

Weiss grabs Ruby’s arm. “Ruby, you can fly!”

But Ruby doesn’t move. “Ozpin has magic,” she says calmly. “That means he can fly too, when he wants to. He’ll take care of himself.” 

_ “No one _ is going to stop Atlas,” Ironwood declares, advancing on the team before him now. He ignores his discarded white gun across the way and keeps the black one in hand instead. “Not his weakness, and not your betrayal. You won’t be the first of Salem’s agents I’ve killed. And you won’t be the last.”

“You really think you can take on all four of us?” Yang challenges. “After Watts did  _ that _ to you, alone?” She gestures to his left arm, still bound up in a sling. 

“I know I can. I have to.”

“You only have one hand,” Blake points out as well, “and I don’t see any spare clips for your gun. Just surrender. Call off your plan to murder the people of Mantle, and we’ll let you go.”

Ironwood glowers at her. “No. At Amity, Watts had control of the environment and turned it to his advantage. Here, that advantage is mine.” He holsters his gun again and takes another step forward. “As you may have seen at Haven… it may be the Maiden who opens the door, but it is the Headmaster who opens the way to it!”

He pulls the glove off of his prosthetic right arm with his teeth and discards it, forming a metal fist in the air. Lines of glowing blue race up his forearm to the end, matching the channels in the floor of the vault, and all the little planks floating peacefully beyond the platform change from white to the same blue. 

Once content to slowly circle the cavern, they now fly faster and organize into groups – but not toward the goal of forming a staircase up to the golden door. They swirl downward, closer, until all can see that they are not thick planks at all, only slivers of metal that could easily serve as blades. 

Ironwood takes a complement of ten in a slowly turning circle behind his back, with another ten in two vertical lines on either side of his body, pointed toward his declared enemies. The rest stay floating high in the air for now, awaiting their master’s signal to join the fight. 

Seeing the look in Ruby’s eyes, Ironwood smirks and answers the question he can tell is there. “Who did you think taught Penny how to fight?”

* * *

Willow’s waiting for her on the balcony, with a wineglass half full of water and a pensive look on her face. Sienna considers calling up to her from below, but thinks better of it. Instead, she grapples up to the nearby wall with the help of her chain and an ice dart, and swings in from the side to join her.

“Hey,” Sienna says in way of greeting. “Why the long face?”

Willow doesn’t answer immediately, instead looks at Sienna and raises an eyebrow. “Do you have to do that?”

“Crouch on your balcony railing instead of standing next to you like a normal person? Yes.” With a quick, instinctive look around, Sienna flips down her hood and settles to sit on the railing instead. “Feline instincts.”

“That sounds like an excuse.” And Willow’s words sound like she’s disappointed, but her small smile and the twinkle in her eyes give up the game before it’s begun.

Sienna shrugs. “Who says it isn’t? Sitting on balcony railings  _ is _ fun. Try it yourself, sometime. Assuming that is just water you’re drinking.”

“It is.” 

“In a wine glass?”

“I thought I should use them for something. Since I so rarely used to, when drinking wine.”

Willow leans down to put her glass on the floor, then takes Sienna’s offered hand to join her. They sit in silence for a time, neither quite willing to take her hand out of the other’s. At last, she admits, “I’m scared.”

“What about?”

“My daughters. Weiss, Winter… if I didn’t know Whitley would prefer death to willingly leaving this place, I’d be worried about him too. I’m  _ still _ worried about him, but… he is doing better without Jacques, even if he won’t show it in person. He actually made a friend, the other day. I don’t know  _ how _ given that he never leaves the house, maybe they met online, but he certainly  _ is _ texting this Oscar fellow rather frequently.”

“Maybe he’s gay,” Sienna offers, only half joking.

“Maybe,” Willow agrees, not joking at all. “That would be one last way to ‘ruin’ Jacques’ memory, if every one of his family members turned out to be…” She frowns. “He’d hate this.”

“Well, obviously.”

“No, I mean—talking about things. If I dared to voice that I was afraid for them, afraid of anything… he’d just call me weak for being scared in the first place.”

“So you stopped admitting it.” Sienna scoots a bit closer and wraps an arm around Willow’s shoulders. “I almost wish I  _ had _ been the one to kill him, now, just so I could make him suffer. But you deserved that honor far more than me… and you did get off  _ significantly _ easier than I would have. I still can’t quite believe that they just… pardoned you. Right then.”

“Me either. I… was fully prepared to accept the consequences.”

“More than he would have been. I’m glad you did it.”

Willow puts her head on Sienna’s shoulder. “Me too,” she says, quieter. “And I’m sure Winter and Weiss are too. But… both of them, they’re out there, somewhere. Surely dealing with all that… Salem business that the General was talking about.”

“I’d be surprised if they weren’t,” Sienna says. “That’s part of why I’m here, actually. I know a bit more than the average person about Salem, let’s put it that way. Your girls will be fine. I’ve met Weiss, she’s a capable fighter, and if Winter has half the skill in combat that her sister does…”

* * *

“Am I the  _ only _ person whose robotic arm  _ doesn’t _ have some kind of technology-controlling powers?” An exasperated Yang ducks under a slice of three spinning blades and slides on her knees toward Weiss. “That fucker Ballas could jam scrolls and who knows what else with his. And now Ironwood can control a swarm of flying, bladed… stairs?”

Weiss pulls her back to her feet while at the same time fending off another assault with her glyphs. “Stairs have got to be the  _ stupidest _ thing I’ve ever seen weaponized that still somehow works.”

“Worse than Professor Oobleck’s thermos?” Ruby asks from across the platform. 

_ “Doctor _ Oobleck,” Blake corrects her at once. “And yes, even a container for liquids that also shoots fire is better than this!”

Blake flashes to the side to avoid another flying blade, which slows as it cuts through the shadow clone she leaves behind. Yang leaps toward it and slaps it to the ground before it can reorient itself, then with one foot holding it in place, she leans down and slams a fist into the flat of the blade. Delicate electronics shatter under the sideways blow, and that step does not rejoin its fellows at Ironwood’s side. 

“Another one down!” Yang cheers. “Just… way too many more to go.” 

Ironwood barely moves throughout all of this, except to duck to one side or the other away from the bullets Team RWBY send at him. He gestures with his one good arm and the bladed stairs carry out his will, slashing and spinning toward four targets at once, keeping an entire team busy while he doesn’t even break a sweat. 

“If you want it to stop,” he calls out, “you can surrender at any time! I guarantee you that will be less painful than if you wait for Winter to get here.”

Weiss stops to glare at him, as her summoned knight takes charge of her defense for a moment. “You really think she’d help you murder her own sister? Not even Winter is  _ that _ loyal to you.”

Ironwood doesn’t respond in words, only with an increased barrage of flying blades that slices the glowing knight to tatters. The rest of the team converges on Weiss’s position to shield her as she resummons, but Ironwood puts the blades on hold to bring out a different weapon instead. His black gun, requiring the same arm since he currently has just the one. He braces himself hard against the floor, and fires a single gravity bullet at the most convenient target. 

“Blake!” Ruby dives over the edge of the platform to follow her falling teammate. She swirls into rose petals and speeds downward to grab Blake and bring her along, then turns beneath the vault floor to come up on the other side. 

But Ironwood is still expecting her, gun in hand, as motionless stairs form a spiny shield between him and the two huntresses still on the ground. Another gravity round flies directly toward the red and black swirl – and it splits in two. 

One part angles down, fizzling out on the floor to leave a disoriented Blake laying in a pile of rose petals, with no Ruby to be seen. The other continues flight in an arc, solid red now, and dips inward to grab Ironwood from behind. Ruby trails light gray petals for just a moment, then ejects the General from her semblance in almost the same floorless spot he’d shot Blake into. 

A dozen planks follow his descent, and moments later Ironwood rises up again, standing on a square formed of interlocking steps. He stays there, hovering out of reach of blades or gauntlets, while the swarm resumes its attacks below. 

Weiss dismisses her new knight and opts for a queen lancer instead. Blake and Yang jump on while Weiss herself stays on the ground, concentrating on her summon’s flight to keep her teammates safe. 

Ruby and Weiss exchange a glance. So do Blake and Yang. Then Ruby and Blake. Without a word said, everyone understands the plan. 

The lancer flies in a wide arc toward the elevator, ending farther from Ironwood than it was before, and stalls. Blake hands one end of her ribbon to Yang. And Ruby takes off with her semblance once again, aiming for Ironwood’s other side. 

Ironwood’s blades pull back from Weiss and the flying group as he forms a solid wall between himself and Ruby. It seems he didn’t enjoy being picked up before, but in avoiding it again he leaves himself open to other attacks. 

Weiss accelerates her summon forward, and at the same time Yang leaps off backward into the air. She swings down below at the end of Blake’s ribbon, pulled along at incredible speed, with her gauntleted fist ready for impact. While Ruby still harries Ironwood from above, the lancer angles up to bring Yang in from below without losing momentum. 

She crashes bodily through the bottom of Ironwood’s floating platform and slams her fist into his side. Ruby breaks off at once to grab Yang, panting with exertion as she returns them both to the ground, while Ironwood goes flying and manages to grab onto the stone lip in front of the magical door. 

He pulls himself up with robotic strength and rallies the bladed stairs to his side, looking down over the vault platform from the opposite side from the familiar elevator view. His weapons are dwindling, so many broken by fist or blade or bullet, many more just shattered and lost deep below, but he has enough to keep up the fight. 

Maybe not enough to form a staircase anymore, but that’s okay. Penny can carry Winter to the door if necessary, or Ironwood can stay and direct the planks to act as an elevator. 

Ironwood kicks off his right shoe and leaves it on the narrow strip of stone. Blue stripes race down his leg, glowing faintly through his pants and matching his arm and the distant floor below. He jumps off with a gravity-dust shot behind him to land on the edge of the main platform, and rolls to lessen the force of impact. 

Team RWBY glare at him. Everyone is tired, but none willing to back down. 

Ironwood checks his gun. Four gravity bullets left. Exactly enough, so long as Ruby’s aura goes down and she can no longer fly people to safety. So long as he doesn’t get dropped again himself. But he has no plans of letting that happen. 

He plants his metal foot solidly on one of the glowing lines in the floor. Another tactical system activates, and all of the branching, intersecting channels crackle with electricity. 

Ruby yelps as her feet are shocked, and jumps off to the side. She and her team glance around, mentally noting how the safe zones of the floor are broken into parts, and she locks eyes with the General across the way. 

There’s no hesitation there, or remorse. No chance of him backing down, not while he still believes he has support on the way. 

She sighs, steels herself once again, and with a nod to her team, charges back into battle. 

* * *

Penny stares, motionless, her hands trembling by her sides. This can’t be possible. It  _ can’t _ be. She wants to see Winter’s reaction, make sure she’s seeing this too, but can’t take her eyes away. 

After a moment she finds her voice again, and manages a single word: “How?”

Cinder smirks. “Anyone I kill, I can bring back. Though I do wonder if it will work on a  _ machine _ like you. But you can see how Pyrrha now fights for me.”

“I will  _ not _ help you with  _ anything,” _ Pyrrha spits. She puts her shield across her back, and with a quick glance to Penny and Winter, darts to the side to wrap her blade across Cinder’s neck. “You  _ murdered _ me. It’s time to return the favor.”

But Cinder just laughs at her. “You can’t hurt me,” she says. “Didn’t you see Amber? You’re no different.”

Pyrrha frowns and keeps her blade in place. She raises her other hand over Cinder’s shoulder, and with a slight black ripple over her fingers, one of Penny’s floating swords breaks from formation and flies sharply toward Cinder and herself. 

Cinder’s gloating smile quickly turns to shock and pain as the point strikes hard against her aura. “How did you do that?” she demands, and throws Pyrrha’s arm off of her to step away. 

“Clearly your orders aren’t as solid as you think they are.” Another wave of Pyrrha’s hand opens the right side chamber on the transference machine. “Leave these people alone. The Winter Maiden’s power does  _ not _ belong to you.”

“Not yet.” Cinder throws a fireball toward Winter. “Pyrrha, kill the robot girl. Again. The General’s pet operative is  _ mine.” _

“That’s funny,” Winter says after she’s leapt to the side. “I was about to say the same thing in reference to you,  _ Cinder.”  _ Without further ado, she points her saber and charges. 

Pyrrha splits from behind Cinder and runs at Penny, though on her way she bumps against Cinder’s shoulder and throws off the aim of one of her blocks. It must have been an accident. She  _ is _ forbidden from doing anything to hurt Cinder, after all. 

She and Penny clash in the middle of Fria’s room while Cinder and Winter take their fight outside, through the hole Cinder blasted in the wall on her way in. Penny’s eyes are wider than normal and she moves with a slight jerkiness, as she slowly steps backward with her floating swords slashing in synchronized arcs in front of her. 

“I’m sorry, Penny,” Pyrrha says, deflecting a hail of blades with her shield. “For everything. I had no idea. Cinder and her people – they manipulated both of us. They  _ knew _ if we faced each other…” She pauses briefly and stares down at her own hands. 

“It’s – it’s not your fault,” Penny stammers. Her head twitches slightly to the side and she brings all her swords into a defensive position. “You fought – well. Very well. It’s not–” A crash comes from the adjoining room and Penny looks over in shock. “Winter!”

Pyrrha grabs her arm as she turns to go and help. In a low voice, she says, “She can force me to fight. But she can’t force me to use my semblance again. You’ll be safe.”

Penny runs to join Winter at her side, facing down Cinder across the dark entrance room. Cinder screams at them both, fire erupting brighter from her one eye as well as the tendril of magic she has in place of a left arm, and then her feet light up with flame as well and she rockets across to grab both Winter and Penny by the throats. 

Pyrrha leaps out of the way, and can only watch helplessly as Cinder smashes through the far wall and leaves the three of them out in empty air. Cinder and Penny can fly under their own power. Winter at least has an ally willing to carry her if needed. But Pyrrha? She can’t fly and Cinder wouldn’t save her if she fell. 

Her orders can’t possibly require her to pursue Penny into certain death, right? She stands still just a moment, but the mental pull isn’t there. She’s free, for now. 

Pyrrha turns and steps over to the transference chambers. This machine is larger than the one at Beacon, and more sophisticated. But the woman inside doesn’t look like she’s on the edge of death, at least not through injury. Not like Amber was. With one last glance out the hole in the far wall, Pyrrha steps up and opens the chamber door. 

The Winter Maiden slowly blinks her eyes open. “Hello there… young one. I’ve been waiting…” Her eyes search over Pyrrha’s face, not recognizing her. “For quite some time, I think. What was I waiting for?”

“Um… You’re the Winter Maiden, right?”

The old woman slowly nods. “That’s right… I was guarding the power of the Maiden. Are you the one I’ve been waiting for?”

Pyrrha’s eyes widen. “No!” she exclaims. “I’m not. It’s not your time yet.”

Behind her, Cinder begs to differ. “You had your time in the sun. But now your time is up.” She swats Pyrrha away and approaches the transference chamber herself. 

Where are Winter and Penny? Still outside, in the empty space beneath the city of Atlas? As Pyrrha looks out, a green streak flies upward – but that green is too dark, isn’t it? And the trail is not pointing back toward this tower at all, but to the top side of the city. 

Cinder’s voice brings Pyrrha’s attention back to the Maidens.  _ “I _ am the one to take that power,” she says. “One way or another.” Without a Grimm claw to stab into the old woman’s flesh and siphon power back to herself, she settles for a flame-filled human hand instead. 

Fria catches her wrist, and the fireball goes out.  _ “No,” _ she whispers. “You cannot be the one. Not when you are already…” Her eyes narrow in thought. “My little sister, Osenne…?”

“Who?” But Cinder never finds out, as the more experienced Maiden blasts her away with a wave of blue magic. 

Fria takes a single step out from the chamber, and begins to hover in the air. She spreads her arms wide and Pyrrha shrinks back, but the Winter Maiden only places a hand on the top of her head to steady herself in the air. And even as the icy wind picks up around them, Pyrrha finds herself strangely kept warm by the old woman’s touch. 

They stand in silence within the pillar of magic for what seems like an eternity, until a metallic thunk breaks through the peaceful sound of swirling wind. Penny, dropping in through a hole in the ceiling, able to persist through what would kill a human in minutes. 

And with her arrival, Pyrrha’s orders come back into effect. She can feel the compulsion growing stronger, to attack this innocent girl as Cinder wishes of her. But the most she can do is raise her spear and shield, for as soon as she does so, her legs lock to the floor with a coating of ice up to the knees. 

“You stay right here…” Fria murmurs from above. 

Penny approaches cautiously and rests a hand on Fria’s ankle. The Maiden gasps softly, and the blue fire around her eyes goes out. She begins to sink to the floor, still holding Pyrrha at arm’s length, and the freezing wind around the group dies out to leave a solid wall of ice in its place. 

“I had a job to do,” Fria remarks softly. “I was supposed to protect the Winter Maiden. But she’s here, with me… or I’m here with her… and she’s ready to move on.” Fria reaches out to take Penny by the shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Penny, ma’am. But, you know that if you give the power up…”

“I’ll move on too.” Fria nods solemnly, and looks to her other side. “What about you?”

“My name is Pyrrha, ma’am. I… shouldn’t be here. I’m not the one you need.”

A crash of shattering ice comes from across the room. “She’s  _ mine!” _ Cinder screams. She throws a fireball toward Fria, but Pyrrha catches it on her shield. 

“Thank you, Pyrrha… Help me to my bed, would you? And Penny… your friend needs you.”

Winter is back now too, entering from the same hole in the ceiling now that the wind is no longer a barrier. She and Cinder clash, and as Penny watches, a glass blade slices through Winter’s sleeve and leaves a spray of blood on the floor. Penny unfolds the blades from her back and dashes back into the fight. 

“You stay alive, now,” Pyrrha instructs as she gently guides the elderly Maiden to sit on the edge of her bed. “But just in case… think of Penny.”

Fria nods, and lays back against her pillows. 

And the moment her hand lifts away from Pyrrha, the magic stifling Cinder’s semblance fades with it. Pyrrha bolts upright again, hefts her spear, and throws it across the room at Penny. “I’m sorry,” she calls out, already magnetizing her hand to pull the weapon back, and takes one last glance at Fria before charging into battle. 

The old woman’s eyes are closed, but she’s breathing steadily. But as Pyrrha watches, the hint of a smile on her face disappears, and she starts to shiver. 

* * *

“We’re almost there.” Marrow consults a map on his scroll and traces a path from where they are to somewhere else. “Just a little further. Third door on the right, and then to the end of that hallway, and we’ll be at the elevator down.”

May peers over his shoulder to look at the room he’s indicated. “There’s nothing there.”

“Of course not. You think we’re going to put a Maiden on the campus map?”

“I don’t think enough people know what a Maiden  _ is _ for it to matter.”

“Okay. I see your point. I just don’t—” Marrow holds up a hand. In a quieter voice, he continues, “You hear that?”

Some faunus  _ do _ have heightened senses. However, May happens to know that’s fairly limited to faunus that have specific traits, like better hearing for a girl with cat ears or better eyesight for someone with eagle eyes. So there’s nothing Marrow can hear that she can’t.

With that in mind, she listens.

Footsteps. Someone running. Someone running  _ this way. _ May swaps her weapon to her other hand and spreads both arms wide. To her eyes, and anyone else with her, the roughly spherical area surrounding them just turned blue.

To the eyes of anyone  _ outside, _ however, there’s no blue field. The wide hallway looks completely normal. Too normal, as no one will be able to see her or Marrow unless they run into the field (and May can change its shape without too much difficulty, so outside intrusion isn’t a problem.)

Whoever’s coming could, however, still  _ hear _ them, and Marrow knows that as well as May does.

“Stay in front of me,” May whispers, “and  _ don’t say a word. _ If you do, I  _ will _ knock you out and dump you in another closet.”

Marrow opens his mouth to protest, then thinks better of it and settles for a nod instead. May levels the tip of her polearm at the small of his back, and they wait.

They don’t have to wait long. Someone comes running around the corner up ahead, sword and shield at the ready. If May does nothing, he’ll run right past them.

But that’s  _ not _ a military huntsman (or as she likes to call them, a bootlicker). That’s someone Academy-age, someone she’s  _ definitely _ seen somewhere before. Someone…

That’s  _ it! _ May grabs for Marrow’s scroll and swaps tabs. The arrest warrants for Team RWBY, Qrow, and three others come up.

Is that… yeah, it definitely is. Now that she’s got a face and a name, she can faintly remember him from the supply run barricade. Which means he’ll probably remember someone there had an invisibility semblance.

“Hey, Jaune,” she says, very much  _ not _ expecting him to skid to a stop and point his sword in the general direction of her voice.

“Neo, fight me  _ yourself! _ No illusions, no tricks, no nothing!”

May backs up from Marrow and lets down her invisibility field. “Who the fuck is Neo?”

“Associate of Cinder, suspected to be at least selectively mute as no one has ever heard her speak, probably the person you were originally looking for before you swapped places with Robyn,” Marrow supplies. He looks a lot less nervous now that her weapon isn’t pointed at him. “Hi, Jaune.”

Jaune looks between the two of them wearily. “So are  _ you _ working with her, or are  _ you _ working with him, and do I need to worry about fighting you two because I really would rather not right now.”

“He’s working with me, and we’re working on getting the bootlicker out of the huntsman. Also stopping Atlas from falling, which of  _ course _ nobody told me was even a danger until an hour ago, tops.” May shrugs. “You want to come? If you’re going to be hunted down for treason anyway, you might as well actually commit some.”

To his credit, Marrow doesn’t stammer anything about things being classified this time. His tail dips a bit, but besides that? No protests, no nothing.

Maybe they  _ are _ getting through to him.

“Uh,” Jaune says, “sure? I mean, I’m pretty sure we’ve all committed treason already if you really want to get into it. We’re just actually facing consequences for it finally.”

May looks at him. “So,  _ treason _ -treason, or ‘I pissed off the wrong person and it was Ironwood’ treason?”

“They stole a ship from Special Operative Cordovin to get to Atlas,” Marrow says matter-of-factly. “Don’t know that it counts as treason though. Just stealing from the elderly.”

“I prefer grand theft airship, if you must.” Jaune grins. “And I take full credit for coming up with the plan. Would have worked perfectly if  _ Adam Taurus _ hadn’t interfered. Anyway, does anyone actually  _ like _ Cordovin? Does she really  _ deserve _ all those airships?”

“Not really, no.” Marrow’s tail starts to wag, just a little. 

“I’m sure Cordovin is even worse now that she’s got a looser leash,” May cuts in, “but can we walk and talk? Ideally jog and talk. Or even faster. I’d like to not be too late to stop Atlas from falling  _ or _ taking a trip to the stars.”

“Right. Well, as I said, elevator’s right up here. It’ll take us right through the bulk of Atlas to the bottom side. The Maiden’s there. Only accessible from here or by airship.”

Walk and talk still doesn't quite happen, but at least they’re walking now instead of the alternative. It’s a long elevator ride down, and cramped – purposefully so, because the Winter Maiden isn’t  _ meant _ to have visitors. 

At the end, they arrive to a sterile white hospital like any other, and Marrow takes the lead once again. It’s not far, and they don’t even need the map anymore. They just have to follow the sound of fighting. 

May was right to be worried. They arrive at the end of the hall, unmarked by anything except an overabundance of security cameras, just in time to see Winter Schnee launched out of the room with a wisp of fire in her wake. 

There’s no flash of pale blue on her impact, meaning her aura must already be depleted. As she slumps forward and lays motionless on the ground, May can clearly see the wall where she struck is riddled with cracks. 

* * *

“Winter  _ is _ skilled,” Willow says. “Both of them are. I… don’t know who would come out on top in a fight, nor do I want to know. But…”

“Willow. Look at me.”

Willow does. Sienna cups her chin in her free hand and says, without blinking, “They will be  _ fine. _ Alive, at the very least. Unhurt may be less certain, but they’ll survive. They can take care of themselves, Weiss and Winter both.”

“Winter  _ is _ a special operative for a reason,” Willow begins dubiously, “and it isn’t  _ just _ because she follows orders!”

“Mhm.”

“It’s  _ not! _ It’s because she knows how to fight. She knows the General well, she can make sure things go well. I’m… sure she’ll be fine?”

“You’re getting the hang of this!” Sienna’s lips meet Willow’s, and Willow’s arms wrap around Sienna. And there, on the balcony, neither of them do much thinking about anything else at all.

* * *

Everything stops when the telltale sound of the elevator is heard once again. All eyes go to it, and the lone figure inside: Clover.

As the elevator lowers and he draws nearer, it's even more clear that something is wrong. Besides the obvious, that is. He looks visibly shaken, he's gripping Kingfisher so tightly that his knuckles are white, and the scariest thing of all: a dull red cloak is draped around his shoulders, wrapped in a way that would almost call to mind a scarf.

There are only two people involved in this mess that wear red cloaks, and one of them is already here and has Crescent Rose aimed at Ironwood. All eyes, however, have gone to Clover. Ruby looks to the cape. Recognition dawns in her eyes, and they go wide.

“Captain Ebi,” Ironwood greets, like he doesn't have the entirety of Team RWBY's weapons pointed at him at the moment, and a swarm of his own weapons aimed right back. "I'm glad to have you, at least, on my-”

“Where's Uncle Qrow,” Ruby says in a low voice. Clover doesn't meet her eyes. She points Crescent Rose at him, aims, fires. A high caliber round passes just above his head, so close he could likely feel it. She asks again, yelling this time,  _ “Where’s Uncle Qrow?!” _

Clover opens his mouth, then shuts it again. Wordlessly, he shakes his head. Wordlessly, he begins to walk forward, and looks to Ironwood.

“Qrow Branwen is dead,” Clover says in a too-quiet voice, and a part of Ruby breaks. She's dimly aware of her teammates, her girlfriends and sister, her family holding her as she sinks to her knees and sobs.

A voice cuts through the haze. Ironwood. “How?”

“Callows. He took advantage of our fight to escape, and…” Clover visibly shudders. “Qrow took the hit meant to kill me.”

“You're lying,” Ruby says. “You're lying! Uncle Qrow isn't—he's not— _ he can’t be dead!” _

“I'm sorry. I wish I was. Clover returns his attention to Ironwood and says, grimly, “I watched him die.”

Obscured from view of Ironwood or Team RWBY by Clover's neck, the makeshift scarf shifts position ever-so-slightly. Maybe it was just the wind, except that there  _ is _ no wind in the hall leading up to Creation. There is only still air, and the quiet chill left behind when hot air rises.

Seeing nothing, Ruby only sobs harder. Yang is still staring at Clover in disbelief. Weiss supports Ruby on one side while still keeping a careful hand on Myrtenaster if she needs to summon fast, and Blake has both arms wrapped around Ruby on her other side.

“Disappointing, but unavoidable,” Ironwood says with a sigh. He looks back to the girls. “If you hadn’t betrayed us all, your uncle might still be alive.”

“Shut the  _ fuck _ up,” Yang says furiously, hair sparking as she does. Even so, she doesn’t move, not yet. Neither does Ironwood. Nobody here is quite ready to leap back into a fight.

However, with Clover on his side? Ironwood’s odds are looking a lot brighter.

“General, if I may,” Clover stops a few feet from Ironwood. “Are we  _ certain _ they’re working with Salem? That they haven’t been framed too?”

Ironwood scoffs. “I am _quite_ certain, Captain Ebi. Miss Rose _confessed_ that she had been fighting alongside _Salem_ _herself_ not an hour before I sent out the order for their arrests.”

“To fight  _ Cinder!” _ Ruby protests. She stands, leaving Crescent Rose where she dropped it, and balls up her hands into fists. “Clover, sir—we haven’t betrayed anyone. If anything, Ironwood’s betrayed the whole kingdom.”

“Salem contacted Ruby first,” Weiss says. “Ruby only took her up on an offer to deal with our  _ mutual _ enemy, Cinder.” 

“And sure, they were unsuccessful,” Yang agrees, “but Salem held up her end of the bargain. Which is more than can be said for  _ some. _ ”

“You’re telling me you  _ met Salem?” _ Clover says in disbelief. “And you  _ walked away from it?” _

“That was my reaction the first time too,” Blake says wryly.

“The  _ first time?” _

Ironwood clears his throat. “Since Salem is apparently  _ already here, _ and has been for some time, I need to know. Captain Ebi: Are you on my side, or  _ theirs?” _

“Oh, please. What do you think? I just want some answers before we get back to fighting. Sir.”

“Very well. What would you like to know?”

Ironwood’s aura must be low, if he’s stalling like this. That’s a bad sign for him, but a good sign for Team RWBY, except that they’re hanging back too. Everyone’s aura must be on the verge of breaking.

So is Clover’s, but he can manage.

“We’ve got two cities depending on us, General—Atlas and Mantle. Certainly there’s a Grimm invasion down there, but not even one on the scale of a few days ago. We can handle it alone, and even if we couldn’t, we have allies that are willing to help us!”

“Are they allies?  _ Are _ they willing to help us? Since again,  _ Salem is already here.” _

“Take the Ironwood out of  _ us _ and maybe!” Yang shouts, hands cupped around her mouth. “He fucking shot Ruby!”

“They certainly  _ were _ willing to help,” Clover amends. “I just… why would you shoot a  _ child? _ Why would you call for the arrest of these huntresses, most of them barely adults, dead or alive? When, correct me if I’m wrong, the arrest warrant for Tyrian clearly stated that he was wanted alive? And I  _ know _ you brought Watts in alive.”

Clover’s borrowed cape-scarf rustles again.

“Because—” Ironwood stops himself. He squints at Clover suspiciously. “This is starting to sound like an interrogation. Are you with me? Because if you’re not—”

“Sir? I  _ was.” _

With that, Clover throws Kingfisher’s hook. A dark blur detaches itself from the scarf and flies into its shadow. Ironwood blocks the hook. He does  _ not _ block the small, black-feathered bird who flies past him and up, transforming back into Huntsman Qrow Branwen just in time to dropkick Ironwood to the ground.

Clover reels Kingfisher’s hook back in one-handed. With the other, he takes a pair of gravity bolas and tosses them to Qrow, who wastes no time in binding Ironwood’s free metal hand to the injured one in the sling. 

“Qrow!” Ruby shouts. “You’re not dead!”

“Nope!” Qrow pops the P. “Takes more than Tyrian to kill me, pipsqueak. Sorry to scare ya like that. We had to, to make sure we could handle Ironwood without anyone getting hurt. Which we did, so we’re in luck.”

As he pulls Ironwood roughly to his feet, Clover stares at him for a long moment. Eventually he says, “Qrow?  _ I love you.” _

“I know, I love you too, but is now really the time?”

“You  _ bastard,” _ Ironwood mutters, with no clear sign of who his words are directed to. “I should have known. I should have—”

“Not betrayed the people you swore to protect, for one,” Clover tells him, leaning in to do so. “I may be a soldier, but I was a huntsman first. So were you… but unlike you, I still  _ am _ a huntsman first. I let myself lose sight of that once, and all it did was get me killed. But I was lucky enough to get a second chance, and this time I choose the people of Atlas. The entire kingdom,  _ including _ the half who you were so willing to abandon.”

Ironwood’s shoulders slump. That doesn’t stop him from glaring right back at Clover. “Special Operative Schnee is claiming the power of the Winter Maiden as we speak. When she gets here…”

“Winter’s got a stick up her ass—sorry Weiss,” Qrow amends hastily. “But she’s no traitor. She’ll come around.”

Saying nothing more, Ironwood only smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sienna just keeps missing fights to make out with Willow, smh. Being gay is all well and good but you can't forget about the doing crime part when you need it most-


	32. Part 3 Episode 7: Changing of the Seasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a battle of Maidens, neither kills the other. Jaune and Pyrrha get a reunion of sorts, while being forced to attack each other. Ironwood learns who the new Winter Maiden is. And where Ruby and Salem failed before, someone else succeeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: suicide

“Fuck,” Marrow says, which might actually be the first time May has heard him curse in a good couple years. “Jaune, can you—”

“Yeah.” Jaune’s already going for Winter. As he props her up against the wall, his hands—not to mention any point of contact between him and Winter—start to glow white. Upon seeing May’s slightly confused look, he elaborates, “It’s my semblance. I can amplify auras. I can use it for healing—”

“Or for making other people’s semblances  _ scarily _ powerful, but keeping people alive right now is probably a better use,” Marrow finishes. “May, I know you still don’t trust me and you probably shouldn’t, but we  _ have _ to stop Cinder. If she gets the Winter Maiden powers…”

“We’re all fucked,” May says. “Alright, then. Consider this your chance to prove you’re telling the truth, since Robyn is… probably on the other side of Atlas right now.”

She reaches back and undoes Marrow’s bolas. He rubs his wrists gratefully.

“She’ll be fine. If anyone’s  _ not _ going to be fine—”

As if to punctuate the statement Marrow didn’t get to finish,  _ something _ black and red streaks out from the room Winter had come flying out of. May only realizes once she stops before them that the something is a woman. A woman wearing an eyepatch, with one arm holding a molten sword, and currently  _ levitating in midair. _

If that’s not Cinder, May’ll drink the mystery sauce in the back of the Happy Huntresses’ communal fridge. That’s even more likely to kill her than Cinder is.

_ “Fuck,” _ Marrow says again, more emphatically this time.

“Oh,  _ more _ of the General’s pawns?” Cinder shakes her head, and holds her sword at the ready. “It’s disappointing that you really think you can stop me.”

“Hey, I am  _ not _ one of  _ his _ pawns!” May protests. “And neither is he!” 

She gestures angrily back to Jaune… who was purposefully keeping quiet and attempting to stay unnoticed, and who Cinder apparently hadn’t seen until now.  _ Shit. _ Too late now.

“Oh,  _ I _ remember you.” Cinder smiles cruelly. “The fool who genuinely thought he could take  _ me _ on _ , _ magic or no magic. Who failed, over and over and  _ over, _ to save his friends.”

“No, I  _ didn’t.” _ Jaune stands now, keeping one hand on the unconscious woman’s shoulder but expanding his shield in the other.  _ “You _ failed. Weiss is still alive.”

“Is she? I’m sure that will be amended soon enough. And you  _ are _ forgetting someone.”

“Pyrrha…” Jaune blinks hard. “You’re right. I couldn’t save her. And I might not be the one to avenge her, but if I can save even  _ one _ person from you? She’d be proud of me. I know she would.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Cinder  _ laughs. _ “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Cinder leaps to the side, narrowly dodging a thrown sword.  _ Penny. _ And yet, the sword freezes in midair, two feet before May’s face. It spins around, moves slightly to the left, and then flies for Cinder. She dodges it—mostly.

May looks past her to see two girls, although neither are human. One is Penny Polendina, the robot girl who takes the sword back under her control (even though it, and the other several swords she has arrayed behind her, are trembling slightly.)

The other, May doesn’t recognize, although it’s a little difficult to. There’s nothing there but the  _ outline _ of a girl in red aura, a girl with a long ponytail, a circlet across her brow, and a spear and shield just as ghostly as the hands that hold them. 

May doesn’t recognize her, and a quick look at Marrow proves that he doesn’t either. Jaune, on the other hand, whispers, “No…”

“I’m sorry,” the bodiless girl says.

“Pyrrha,” Cinder says, “fights for  _ me _ now.”

And yet Pyrrha—that must be her name—says something quietly. Too quietly for May or Cinder to hear, perhaps even too quietly for Penny to hear without the enhanced hearing of an android. Penny nods. Her swords shake a little less as they return to the compartment on her back, and then she  _ rockets _ down the hall in a brilliant burst of light green.

Cinder dodges, but Penny wasn’t trying to hit her. Pyrrha wasn’t trying to hit her either, with the javelin thrown after Penny that just so happened to catch her in the arm. That does not, however, keep Cinder from whirling around and  _ screaming _ in rage.

“I’ll… I’ll keep Winter safe,” Penny says, touching down on the ground behind them. “You have to—stop Cinder.  _ Please. _ I can’t. I—I  _ can’t.” _

“Why not?” Marrow demands. “We need all the help we can get, and—”

“You protect Winter. I’ll help.” Jaune steps away from Winter and draws his sword. “It’s not about Cinder, is it?”

“No,” Penny says. “I know I should be able to fight her. I should be able to fight— _ but I can’t. _ I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s only human.” The smile Jaune gives her as she supports Winter herself proves that his word choice there is entirely deliberate. “We can bring down Cinder. We  _ have to.” _

Cinder, meanwhile, has been giving Pyrrha order after order in an attempt to avoid leaving any more loopholes. She finally finishes, “Stop them from following me.”

And then she runs back the way she came, through the burnt hole that used to be a door. Pyrrha stands at the ready.

Once Cinder’s out of earshot, she says, “Her control over me isn’t as absolute as she thinks. It’s…” Pyrrha winces. “Hurry. Make sure there’s no way I can stop you.”

That’s all May needs to activate her semblance. She, Marrow, and Jaune turn invisible.

But when May’s invisibility field falls, only she and Marrow stand behind Pyrrha.

_ “Go,” _ Jaune says pointedly. “Stop her from killing another Maiden!” 

And so May does. A cry of “STAY!” from behind her makes her duck and roll to the side on instinct, but it isn’t directed at her. It’s directed at Cinder, whose eyes look at them even as her body is frozen.

_ “You,” _ Cinder hisses. “You think this can stop me?” She’s stopped in her tracks, a glass knife in her only hand, halfway turned around toward the shout from her previous intent. But her eye is still flaming with orange, and she doesn’t need to move to throw fireballs. 

May turns invisible again. She reappears behind Cinder, next to a bed with an old woman in it. This must be her. Winter, the maiden. Not Winter, the bootlicker.

Although honestly, Winter the bootlicker might be in better shape at the moment. The old woman is sleeping, but shivering. Of course she is, it’s  _ freezing _ in here in a quite literal sense and she’s wearing what, a hospital gown? There’s a literal wall of ice around much of the room, all the way up to the broken ceiling. This woman must not have her aura unlocked, or if she does it isn’t active.

It needs to be active. She’s going to freeze to death otherwise, and that bed has precious little in the way of blankets. It shouldn’t have gotten this cold in here, even exposed to the outside air on the underside of Atlas. The result of whatever made that ice, probably. 

“Ma’am,” May says quickly, quietly, shaking her shoulder. “Ma’am, you need to wake up. You’re going to freeze otherwise.”

And wouldn’t  _ that _ be horribly ironic, having this whole battle over the fate of the Winter Maiden and then she freezes to death.

For a few moments, there’s no response at all. But there’s still the even rise and fall of her chest. She’s still  _ alive, _ even if she isn’t exactly responsive. That’s something, May supposes.

She risks a glance behind her. Cinder is frozen with Marrow’s semblance, so she couldn’t look behind her if she wanted to. May doubts she’d even want to, considering how preoccupied she currently is with Marrow. And… also considering that there’s three fireballs currently chasing him around the room. How the  _ hell _ is she still frozen?

Marrow lets out a yelp as one of them comes far too close to his tail and, with a thought, Cinder is freed. The fireballs disappear. Evidently, using magic is a bit harder when you have to focus on bodily functions as well.

_ “Please _ just go back to using a sword!” Marrow gets out before he has to dodge an abrupt swing of said sword.  _ “Thank _ you!”

Molten sword meets metal boomerang, and May returns her attention to the Maiden. 

She’s stopped shivering.

That’s either good, or really,  _ really _ bad.

“Uh… Miss Winter Maiden, ma’am, you  _ really _ need to wake up,” May tries, a little louder, a little more emphatic. She shakes her shoulder again. This time, she gets a response.

This time, clear blue eyes blink up at her, full of confusion.

“What the fuck were they  _ thinking,” _ May mutters. “Hold on. I’ve got aura, I don’t need this jacket as much as you do.” She’s midway through shrugging it off when the old woman’s hand finds her arm.

_ “No,” _ she says, firmly. “Who are… are  _ you _ the one?”

Lacking any idea of what being  _ the one _ entails, May shrugs. “I’m May, and  _ you _ need to not freeze. What’s your name?”

“Iryllia,” the old woman says almost instinctively, before frowning. “No, that’s not… Fria. I think. You’re… not the one either, are you? I have a job to do, but if not Penny, not Pyrrha… definitely not  _ her…” _

“Cinder?”

“…who?”

“The angry lady outside with the fire and the sword.”

“Is that what she calls herself now?” Fria shakes her head. “No, she cannot be the one for me. And yet my time is here. Do you understand?”

“Not really, but  _ please _ put my jacket on, do you have aura?”

Fria ignores the question. “James didn’t send you, did he? But I think… maybe you are…”

May looks at the woman refusing her offered jacket, the woman whose lips are looking blue, and who is perhaps moments away from death.

“You can choose your replacement,” she realizes. “But I… no. I  _ can’t _ be. I’m not even…”

“I always was a bad liar too. That much, I remember…” 

Fria closes her eyes. Her grip on May’s arm slackens.

“You can’t—no, you  _ can’t _ die, what the fuck am I even supposed to  _ do? _ I don’t…”

_ Know, _ but suddenly, May does. Ice blue flames flare to life from her eyes. She kneels beside Fria, or Iryllia, or whoever she was. She places her limp arm atop her chest, and bows her head for a moment.

But only a moment. She turns to see all eyes on her. All eyes in the room, that is—the clash of metal against spectral metal can still be heard in the hallway outside. Hopefully Jaune and Penny are alright, but May currently has closer, angrier problems.

“It’s  _ you? _ Are you— _ no. _ ” Cinder raises her hand. Five fireballs shoot towards May in a starburst pattern. 

What she would do, normally, is leap out of the way and block any stray ones with her glaive. Instead, she pushes the palm of her free hand out in front of her.

A wall of ice blocks every one.

* * *

Eudico doesn’t take her eyes off Tyrian until he’s in a cell, still bound, and still snickering away over  _ something. _ Probably an escape plan of some sort. And she’s not stupid, she knows people like him don’t forget things like this.

_ Maybe _ she and Ticker should hole up at Biz’s place for a few days. Or LD’s. Better  _ not _ to be where her girlfriend’s(!) insane cousin knows they live if and when he breaks out. Although let’s be honest, it’s  _ probably _ going to be a when for Tyrian.

At least the guards managed to remove his prosthetic tail before shutting him in there. That should make him a  _ little _ bit less deadly, for a while. 

“So, that’s it then, he’s in a cell and given that he works for that… Salem person…” The officer shivers. “He’s not going to see the light of day again for a  _ long _ time. Maybe not ever.”

“That is  _ very _ good to hear,” Ticker chirps. She almost sounds like she believes he’ll stay there.

“Before you two head back on your way to Mantle—first transport of the day is at six, you’ve got plenty of time to get there—I… do have to ask. How did two  _ civilians _ manage to capture  _ Tyrian Callows? _ He was supposed to be in custody hours ago, but  _ that _ transport never made it here.”

Eudico and Ticker exchange glances. “Well,” Eudico starts, “we were just… out together, on a date… and then the Grimm alert went off and we were on our way home, and we ran into him in the street. Just used what we had on hand.”

She knows that’s not what he’s asking. But he doesn’t know that she doesn’t know.

“Okay. Sure,” the officer says skeptically. “But how did you get  _ gravity bolas? _ You’re not supposed to—”

“Void and stars, she just  _ told you.” _ Ticker rolls her eyes. “We were  _ on our way home from a date.  _ How much more obvious do I have to make it?”

Oh.

_ Oh. _

Well that sure is an excuse, isn’t it. 

It’s probably a good thing that the officer is too flustered to notice the rising blush on Eudico’s face as well. He looks at Ticker, then quickly back to his clipboard and says, “Right. Okay. You know what, just… I don’t want to know. Have a nice night.”

* * *

“Pyrrha, get in here!”

Cinder’s voice cuts through the clash of spear and shield on floating blades, and Pyrrha instantly feels the pull in her mind forcing her to comply. At least this contradicts her previous order to attack Penny and overwrites it, so the poor girl can stay with her fallen teammate in peace. 

She returns to find a very different battle than the one she left just a minute before. The old Winter Maiden is dead and the blue-haired girl stands in her place, turning away blast after blast of fire with a terrified, confused expression on her face. The faunus huntsman engages the enemy up close, clearly after one throw too many where his boomerang failed to come back. 

And Jaune. Weaving in and out with his shield always – finally – in the right position to block, as he and the other one slowly push Cinder in a circle around the room. He’s come so far. 

“Well don’t just stand there. Help me!” Damn. She noticed. And there Pyrrha goes again, spurred into action… but at least she can choose not to hurt her friend or the new Maiden. Sorry, Marrow. 

Pyrrha throws her shield at his legs. Oh, he jumped back to avoid Cinder’s sword just at the right time? What a shame. Pyrrha elects not to call the shield back to her with her semblance, and instead charges forward and rolls directly between the three combatants to pick it up again. 

But the moment Pyrrha reaches her side, Cinder leaves her again to rocket up through the hole in the roof. She hovers there, raining fireballs on the crowd below, daring the new Winter to follow her where no one else can. 

But May doesn’t move. She experimentally throws a punch at the air, and returns a blast of fire just like Cinder’s own that flies out the top and fizzles out in the air beyond. 

And then… Cinder flies away. As Pyrrha halfheartedly fights with Marrow, neither scoring a solid hit on the other, Cinder drops past the hole in the side wall and disappears out of sight. 

The pull in Pyrrha’s mind lessens as she gets farther away. That makes some sense; her most current order is, after all, simply “help me.” Without a good idea of what Cinder is doing, there’s not much she can do to help. 

“Jaune,” she says, and instantly has the boy’s attention. “This may be my only chance to say it, so… I’m proud of you. When we first met, at Beacon orientation, I could tell you had  _ potential, _ but unrealized. You were there with fake transcripts and didn’t even have your aura unlocked.”

Despite himself, Jaune smiles. “Wow, way to air my dirty laundry in front of the military.”

“But you’ve  _ grown,” _ Pyrrha continues. “You’re a real huntsman and you fight like one. I saw you and Nora and Ren at Haven. Your team –  _ our _ team – is stronger than ever.”

“You should be with us.” Already the corners of Jaune’s eyes are wet with tears. “What did she do to you? Ruby said you died!”

“I did.” Pyrrha casts her gaze down. “It’s her semblance. Everyone she kills ends up like this. A ghost that she can pull out to fight again.” The whole room shakes with some massive blow to the building’s lower floors. “What is she… no, better that I don’t know. Jaune, I… I’m sorry. If I’d been just a little stronger, at Beacon…”

“You did the best you could. The best any of us could. You were always the top student there, but we were  _ all _ just  _ students.” _ The floor shakes again. Whatever Cinder is doing out there, it must be serious. “If anyone–” 

Another blast somewhere below nearly knocks him off his feet. Behind, May narrows her eyes and concentrates, and slowly lifts a foot off the floor before Marrow grabs her hand to pull her back down. “Don’t follow,” Marrow says. “She wants to get you alone.”

May nods and settles back to the floor, but she still looks worried. 

“Anyway,” Jaune continues through the sound of distant gunfire below them, “if anyone is to blame for Beacon, it’s Ozpin. He should have done more, sooner. And at the end, he was right there with us and he  _ does _ have the power to fight a Maiden. So why did he let Cinder kill him? You should never have had to fight her at all.”

“I’m sure he did his best.”

Jaune snorts. “Wouldn’t count on it. Ozpin’s a lying–” He cuts off suddenly as Pyrrha steps forward to pull him into a tight hug. “Oh, uh, okay. You’re pretty solid for a ghost.”

“She’s coming back. I can feel her getting closer, her power trying to make me… she was trying to knock the whole building off the bottom of Atlas? Wow. Glad that didn’t work.” She backs away, raising her spear once again. “Get ready.”

May is ready, at least. As Cinder flies in through the hole in the wall, she lets loose a bolt from her crossbow which leaves a line of magic along its path, and as she moves the weapon she traces over Cinder back and forth to strike her with the energy. 

Cinder screams at her, only to become even angrier as Jaune bashes her with his shield and knocks her off balance. “I’ve had  _ enough _ of all of you! Pyrrha, kill them! Start with the sappy one who doesn’t know when to quit!”

And that means Jaune. There’s no getting out of that order, even if it didn’t mention him by name. But she can still holster her spear and shield, and throw a punch instead of a blade. 

“I’m sorry,” she calls again. Jaune gives her a nod, and keeps his shield up between them as he focuses his sword more on Cinder. 

And finally, a swing of Marrow’s boomerang leaves her staggered just enough for Jaune to slip in and deliver a solid blow that leaves orange aura flickering and cracking over her body. 

Cinder screams again, with fire spraying from her mouth. Her magic is still usable, even with aura broken. 

Pyrrha signals with one hand, a gesture learned at Beacon and known throughout her team.  _ Move over there, and stay still and quiet. _

Jaune sees it, and halfway disengages. With his shield up and hard-light barriers extended on both sides, he blocks an intense barrage of fireballs as he moves around in a circle. 

That’s it. Cinder has her back turned now. The spear returns to Pyrrha’s hands, and with just a moment to steel herself, she charges forward and stabs it hard into Cinder’s back. 

With a spluttering cough, the hail of fireballs from Cinder’s palm goes out and she drops to her knees. Marrow freezes where he is, and across the room the blue glow around May’s next crossbow bolt fades away. 

Pyrrha’s entire ghostly body flickers. 

As Cinder drops further to rest on her single hand, Jaune’s eyes flick between her and Pyrrha, and widen in alarm. “Freeze her again!” he orders, frantically waving a hand between Marrow and Cinder. 

The pool of blood beneath Cinder is growing wider by the second, and Pyrrha flickers once again. And Marrow realizes what he’s been asked to do. 

_ “STAY!” _

* * *

When Winter blinks back to consciousness, it’s to the abrupt realization that she  _ shouldn’t _ be blinking back to consciousness at all. She failed to take the Maiden’s power,  _ either _ Maiden’s power. She failed to stop Cinder.

She  _ failed, _ and failures don’t get second chances.

“I think she’s waking up,” someone says. Someone with braided blue hair and a decidedly non-military outfit. Is that…  _ May Marigold? _ What the fuck is  _ she _ doing here?

“Please try to relax,” a quieter voice says, and a quick glance to her right proves it’s Penny. “How are you feeling?”

“Not… ideal,” Winter grits out. “Help me up. I need to—”

“Get back in there?” May finishes. “Winter, the fight’s over. We won. And by we I mean the not-Cinder we.” 

She still extends a hand. Winter, with some hesitation, takes it. She leans on Penny for more support than she’d prefer, and asks the question she’s afraid of. “Who’s Winter?”

“Oh. Fuck. Um, you know, it’s actually not that surprising you’d be concussed, come to think of it, but still, this isn’t good. Damn, uh...  _ You’re _ Winter. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Winter gives the huntress who  _ shouldn’t be here _ an unimpressed glare. But her head hurts too much to worry about what she  _ is _ doing here, or how she got here. She could have easily just followed the explosions.

“Four. Thumb’s not a finger, and if I  _ am _ concussed it’s not that badly. I mean…” Right, of course one of Robyn’s girls wouldn’t know what a Maiden was. She turns her attention to Penny.  _ “Winter. _ The Maiden. Fria. What… she didn’t survive, did she?”

“I don’t know.” Penny hiccups and adds, hastily, “I wasn’t there. I was out here. May, Jaune, and Marrow were in there.”

“She’s dead,” May says.

Winter closes her eyes, a brief moment of silence for someone who had deserved to go peacefully. “Who is it?”

“It’s, um…” Penny winces. “I know it should have been you, but you were hurt. Badly. And there was no time…”

“It’s not Cinder, at least?”

Nods from both others present. Winter has a feeling she knows, but… better to be sure. She would like to be wrong. “And the only others present, besides you—who it’s not?”

“It’s not me,” Penny says firmly.

“Were you, for  _ some _ reason,” Winter looks pointedly at May, “Marrow, and Jaune. Which means… oh  _ gods, _ it’s  _ you.” _

May blinks. In an instant, gold eyes become rimmed with blue fire. “I think I’m getting the hang of this… magic thing. Maybe. Kind of had to learn fast.” She blinks again, and the Maiden fire is gone again. “How did you know it was me?”

“Because—” She shouldn’t be telling someone like  _ May _ this, but… she’s a Maiden now herself. Which means she has to know these things, and by extension, the rest of the Happy Huntresses soon will too. Winter should be more concerned about that. “Because they’re called Maidens for a reason. Only young women can receive the power. So Marrow, Jaune—both ineligible.”

“But I was…” May blinks again, this time much harder. She raises a hand to her eyes and rubs them quickly. “I’m… eligible? For something that only girls can be eligible for.”

“You’re more than eligible, you’re  _ it. _ The General is… not going to be happy about this.”

“No, he definitely isn’t.” Even as she sniffles, May sounds altogether too cheerful about that fact. “I just… thank you. Wow. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“It… shouldn’t… do you  _ realize _ how much responsibility this comes with?”

“Nope! I’m just…”

Crying, apparently. 

“You’re telling me that this magic that only picks girls, said  _ I _ was a girl,” May says slowly. 

“Yes?”

“Well, there you have it! I’m a girl, and magic said so.” May pumps a fist in the air. “I could kiss you right now, you know that?”

“The thought is appreciated,” Winter says, “but if I take  _ any _ of my weight off of Penny right now, I’m  _ going _ to collapse.”

* * *

Ironwood’s scroll lets out a chime. It echoes in the vault, bringing all other conversation to a halt. Clover looks to his former superior and raises an eyebrow. “That Winter?”

“What do you think,” Ironwood says. In other words,  _ yes. _

“I’d say that’s a solid ‘probably,’” Qrow drawls. “You  _ really _ think she’s texted you to say that she’s murdered… well,  _ Winter, _ and is on her way here because  _ clearly _ she’ll pick  _ you _ over what little family she has left.”

“I trust Special Operative Schnee to choose the right thing.”

“So do I! But, you know, I get the feeling you and I have two very different definitions of what that right thing is.”

“They are  _ working with Salem.” _

“And that’s something I’d still like to hear their side of the story on before making any judgments. Gonna go ask them about that now, actually. Cloves, you got him?”

Clover nods. As Qrow walks off to join Team RWBY, he asks, “So… do you want me to read that for you or not?”

_ “No,” _ Ironwood says flatly. He gets a skeptical look and a raised eyebrow. “Fine. It’s in my back pocket. Don’t think this changes anything. The world  _ will _ know of your betrayal.”

“The only betrayal I’ve done tonight was under your orders, and that won’t be happening again.” Clover reaches for it and swipes right to unlock. “You know, you really should have a scroll passcode.”

_ “Shut up. _ What does the message  _ say?” _

Clover navigates to the messaging app. His eyes go wide. His breath catches in his throat.

_ “What is it?” _ Ironwood demands.

“Well… turns out it doesn’t matter whether or not Winter would still listen to you at all,” Clover says after a moment. He turns the scroll so Ironwood can see it and calls something over to the others, but Ironwood doesn’t hear it.

He only sees those words. Those three, damnable words.

_ It’s May Marigold. _

“So it’s one of  _ them…  _ instead of one enemy Maiden, I now have  _ two. _ ” Ironwood is still sore from the fight, but he pays that no mind. “As well as Oz, and all of you… even  _ you, _ Clover…”

Even the seemingly perfect soldier had turned away from him, in the end. It just goes to show that Ironwood really can’t trust anyone else.

He can’t even trust himself to protect a world that no longer deserves his attempts at protecting.

He’s going to die here, and soon. If these  _ traitors _ don’t kill him themselves, they’ll leave him to rot in a cell, and Ironwood is  _ not _ going to die like that. He’ll do it on his own terms.

It might not do much, in the end… but he can take at least  _ one _ traitor with him.

Clover doesn’t see the new resolve in his eyes. Clover isn’t even paying attention. He’s holding the scroll there, chatting away with the others. Consorting with the enemy, except he too  _ is _ the enemy. And he’s oh so unaware of just how close he’s standing to the edge…

He never sees it coming. Ironwood’s scroll falls to the floor, shattering on impact, while Ironwood himself bodily tackles a traitor off the edge. Shouts of alarm ring out, but only one person is close enough—and fast enough—to act.

Above them, Ruby leaps off the edge herself. A rose-colored blur trailing red petals catches up within a matter of moments.

“Grab my hand!” she yells over the wind. Somehow, despite trailing her petals, she has both hands free to grab. 

Clover does. She extends one to Ironwood as well, but he doesn’t take it. He simply glares, and kicks at her. And the bottom of the vault is approaching fast. Granted, it has a hole in it that doesn’t look like it belongs, and Ruby has a feeling she knows who made it, but if they fall through that…

“I’m sorry,” Ruby says, despite everything. Maybe, if things had been different, they  _ could _ have gotten through to him. But things weren’t different. Everyone made their choices, and now it’s time to live with the consequences.

She doesn’t linger. As Ironwood follows Ozpin’s path out the bottom of Atlas, she charges upward again, trailing red and white-gray petals all the way, pushing her semblance to the very limit.

Just beneath the platform, her aura finally flickers and dies—

—but someone grabs her free hand.

“I’ve got you,” Qrow says. “Now don’t you  _ dare _ let go. Either of you. Weiss, can you help bring them up?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Clover calls from below. He almost doesn’t look shaken. 

Almost.

* * *

“How did you do that?” Marrow stares across the hospital room’s floor, blackened with scorch marks and cluttered with bits of ice and broken machinery, at where Cinder rests frozen on hand and knees. “If you’re forced to obey her, then…”

“How did I stab her in the back?” Pyrrha finishes for him. “She ordered me to attack Jaune, my own teammate, and so… I did. I was  _ technically _ aiming where she wanted me to. Cinder just happened to be in the way.”

“And in the beginning, with Penny’s sword?”

“Aiming to stab myself, while Cinder was coincidentally in front of me.” Pyrrha grins. “All that matters is the intent, and that’s all in my head. Cinder’s always been bad about leaving loopholes in her orders, especially when she’s distracted by a fight. You should have seen her with Ruby and Salem. That was a mess.”

“Wait, you mean Ruby really  _ is _ with her? That’s what we thought, but then…” Marrow casts his gaze around the room, searching for May, but she’s not there. Finally he just sighs, “Fine, problem for later, I get it.”

“But… what now?” Jaune’s eyes flick nervously around the room. “If Cinder dies, you die too. Right?”

Pyrrha gives him a sorrowful nod. “That’s right. I and everyone else in there are linked to her.”

Jaune kneels down next to the paralyzed Cinder, and looks to Marrow. “Get your bolas out. We’re taking a prisoner.” He holds out his hands over the wound in Cinder’s back, and they start to glow with white. 

“No! You can’t! It’s not worth it!” Pyrrha calls out to stop him, but his semblance is already activating, linking his white to Cinder’s orange and slowly healing the gaping wound. 

“I won’t lose you again!”

Marrow glances between the pair, gravity bolas in one hand but unsure what he’s supposed to be doing with them. 

“You have to let me go,” Pyrrha pleads. “I know how hard it is. I’ve missed you too, Jaune. I’m just happy we both get the chance to say goodbye this time.”

Jaune continues using his semblance on Cinder’s wound. “It doesn’t  _ have _ to be goodbye. If we’d known you were alive sooner, we could have… I don’t know. Rescued you, somehow!”

Pyrrha shakes her head as she steps around to lay a hand on Jaune’s shoulder. “But I’m  _ not _ alive. Cinder killed me, and you have to accept that and move on. Keep moving forward, as you and Nora and Ren have been. You’re doing a great job.”

“You’re not dead as long as you’re standing right here! There’s got to be a way to keep you here.” Jaune lifts his hands away from Cinder, but only to clasp them around Pyrrha’s own. 

Marrow clears his throat, and nods down at his still-pointed finger. “If there is, could you hurry up and find it? I don’t have a lot of aura left to keep her frozen.”

Pyrrha kneels to give Jaune a tight hug. “I love you, Jaune. But you can’t let me hold you back. I want you to be happy, and that means, eventually, you will get over me. You’ll find someone else.” She brushes away Jaune’s tears, and guides him to his feet as well as she stands. 

She hefts her spear again, and makes a fierce downward stab at the section of floor conveniently located just beneath Cinder’s kneeling form. “Let her die,” she orders. “And me as well. My body died at Beacon. This is just a memory now.”

Jaune’s quiet sobbing halts suddenly and his eyes widen in shock. “Your body died…” he breathes. “We can get you a new body! Just like we did with Ozpin. Pietro can build one for you! If you can stay alive until then…” In spite of himself, he begins to smile again. 

Marrow frowns and takes a step forward, still pointing. “This is our only chance to finish Cinder off,” he points out. “We can’t let her escape. Not when it was this difficult to take her down once.”

“He’s right,” Pyrrha says. “Unfreeze her. All I want is to look her in the eyes as we both go out together. As it should have been at Beacon.”

“Wait.” Jaune wipes away the last of his tears and faces Pyrrha with a new determination in his eyes. “If we don’t have time to build you a new body of your own… then you can use mine.”

“What? But…”

“I’ll still be here. Probably. Oscar and Ozpin coexisted for months.” Jaune offers a hand to his lost teammate. “But I won’t let you die. Not again.”

Marrow hangs the bolas back on his belt. “Would your semblance…”

“That’s right,” Jaune interrupts him. “I already link my aura to others’ to amplify them. Their semblances, their shields, their healing. I can link to Pyrrha as well. Then, when Cinder dies, the connection to her is broken and she’s just with me!”

“And then when Pietro gets around to it, you separate again just like the other kid did.”

Pyrrha still doesn’t take his offered hand, but she does nod. “If you want to try, I can’t fault you. But first…”

She kneels in front of Cinder again, and gently cups her cheek in one hand. “To all the rest of you in there… I’m sorry. None of you had to die. Those who came before me I don't know, but if I’d been a little stronger at Beacon, I might have stopped her before she killed anyone else. Amber has finally found her rest, but… Vernal. If this works and I ever see Raven again, I’ll tell her what happened, and how much she meant to you. You and I both saw her escape from that second fight. She’ll be okay, wherever she is.”

Pyrrha closes her eyes for a moment and lets out a breath. “And Tessa. A civilian, in the wrong place at the wrong time, only trying to help. You never should have been mixed up in this. But seeing you after each of Cinder’s fights… You’re the strongest of all of us. A strength of spirit, not of arms. You looked at Cinder, a woman who had killed you along with so many others, and you saw  _ good _ in her. A good you were determined to bring out, no matter how long it took.”

“I could never have shown her the kindness that you did,” she continues. “But even if your work to reform Cinder never came to fruition, you made a valiant effort and I respect that. It’s been an honor knowing you, no matter how it came about. If we don’t arrive in the afterlife together… I’ll miss you, Tessa.”

Pyrrha stands, and puts an arm around Jaune’s waist while offering her other hand for him to take. Jaune concentrates and his white aura glows, soon followed by Pyrrha’s entire body flaring brighter red as his semblance takes hold. 

“Let her go,” he says to Marrow. 

The pointed finger drops, and time slowly returns to normal pace for Cinder Fall and all the rest who now call her body home. Cinder coughs, and blood spatters the floor in front of her. Her face contorts in pain and fury and she struggles to lean back onto her knees, just for a second so she can flop forward and clasp her one hand around Pyrrha’s ankle. 

“You’re… not… getting  _ away.” _ Cinder wheezes. But despite the contact with her summon, she lacks the aura to pull Pyrrha back into reserve. “You belong to  _ me _ …”

Cinder’s strength gives way and her head drops to lay on the hard floor, unable to maintain her deathly glare any longer. “Pyrrha…”

Her eyes roll back, and she’s gone. 

Red light flickers behind Pyrrha, who still stands strong by Jaune’s side, in the space directly away from Cinder’s body. At the same time, a ball of paler orange lifts out of Cinder’s chest and zips upward into Pyrrha instead, vanishing within in an instant. 

The cone of light behind Pyrrha breaks. At once, the brilliant crimson aura comprising her spectral body and weapon flows independently of her will to lose its form and surround Jaune’s body instead. Red and white shimmer and pulse over one another in waves, slowly subsiding as both colors fade together out of visibility. 

Jaune looks down at his hands and blinks a few times. Marrow stares at him as well, and with a brief call of “Schnee?” brings the other three back into the room. 

Winter leans on Penny for support as she surveys the battlefield. “You did it,” she remarks. “But Cinder was the Fall Maiden. Who–”

“It’s… complicated?” Marrow offers. 

Jaune steps forward. “Yeah. It’s, uh…”

Light flashes from his eyes, and when it fades, the familiar orange Maiden flame rises from their corners. Pyrrha raises her chin to meet Winter’s gaze with confidence, and with Jaune’s same voice she announces, “It’s me.”


	33. Part 3 Episode 8: A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Various groups who had split up get in contact again, now that the fighting is over. Salem creates a new type of Grimm. When the dust settles, the kingdom’s interim leaders convene to decide on the future.

It went without saying that nobody wanted to stay in the vault any longer than they had to. And now, with Ironwood… gone… there’s not much of a reason to stay there any longer, is there?

Not now that the power of the Winter Maiden is safely in the hands of someone who would be more likely to jump off Atlas with no aura than take the staff and drop Atlas on top of Mantle. Weiss didn’t particularly believe that Winter would either, but one of the Happy Huntresses is probably a better option.

Weiss didn’t even know that her sister was in line to be the next Winter Maiden until recently. That certainly was fun to find out, just days before she was sent to claim that power. 

But more importantly: Ironwood lied. About a lot of things, actually, but most importantly right now is that he lied about Watts. He’s  _ still alive. _ Here, somewhere, in Atlas Academy. 

That confirms what Salem said earlier, actually, about why she was here in person. Weiss can only hope she’s still lost in the halls, hasn’t broken him out yet – or, better, that maybe she really is as nice as Ruby says and didn’t come to free him at all, only to call him out for being a racist, useless prick. But that seems unlikely. Still, even Salem having broken him out  _ already _ would be preferable to running into her again right now.

Qrow would understand, probably, or at the very least he wouldn’t try to fight them over it. He was just as angry if not more—Ozpin had been lying to him for longer than anyone else, after all.

Qrow isn’t who Weiss is worried about, if it comes to that. She’s a lot more worried about Clover. Though, he didn’t immediately attack to kill like the rest of his unit. He hasn’t attacked them at all, yet. 

But on the other hand,  _ something _ definitely happened between those two leaving with Councilwoman Hill to bring Tyrian in, and them turning up in the vault on a side no one expected them to be on. Whatever it was, it probably wasn’t good. Neither of them has mentioned where Robyn is now. 

Whatever happened, neither Qrow nor Clover is volunteering any information about it, and now isn’t the time to ask, subtly or otherwise. Instead, Weiss falls back to where Ruby is typing something on her other—now  _ only _ —scroll.

“Godmother?” Weiss asks quietly.

“She asked me not to call her god- _ anything, _ but. Yeah.” Ruby’s muted scroll buzzes quietly as a response comes in. “Looks like she’s already out of the Academy. Should I tell her about Ironwood?”

“I can’t think of any reason to wait,” Blake chimes in, assuming correctly who it is they’re talking about. “Everyone will find out soon anyway. Just be careful. See if she’ll give you something in return.”

Ruby nods. As the three continue down the hall, trailing further behind the one person who knows where he’s going, the huntsman who doesn’t seem too keen on going too far away from him right now, and the yellow-haired huntress with a grudge and one literal fist of steel, she types out a message saying as much.

The response comes even faster.

“‘Never knew you had it in you,’” Ruby reads aloud. “Well, I didn’t, I didn’t  _ want _ him to… I just wanted him to  _ listen!” _

“We know.” Blake wraps an arm around Ruby’s back, gives her arm a comforting squeeze. “What does the rest of that say?”

“‘Normally I’d hear that kind of news from Watts, but—’”

“Hey, lovebugs!” Yang shouts back. “Get up here!”

Even knowing that Salem is well out of the area, and that her family is safe (for now), Weiss can’t help but worry that somehow it  _ is _ her. They’ve definitely run into someone here, on the way to what aren’t listed on the map as holding cells but are too small to be anything else.

It’s not Salem.

It’s  _ The Business. _

“Uh… Biz?” Ruby asks. “What are you doing here?”

Qrow looks back to her.  _ “What _ did you call him?”

“I go by Bishop here,” Biz says curtly, “or The Business. Biz, if you must.”

“The Business,” Clover repeats. “As in  _ Vox Faunus, _ The Business.  _ You’re _ the one who—”

“That’s impossible.” Qrow certainly seems to think so. “Vox was operating long before the last time I saw you. Started… ten years ago, if I had to guess? Twelve? I literally  _ talked to you _ like a year before the Fall of Beacon. Less than that.”

“No, you didn’t. These huntresses—” Biz nods to Team RWBY. “—told me what happened with Leonardo. You think he was the  _ first _ one Salem targeted? I barely escaped with my life.”

“I… feel like I’m missing something here, not gonna lie,” Yang says. “How do you and Qrow know each other?”

“How do you think? I  _ was _ a headmaster. I just neglected to inform your team  _ when _ .”

“That’s Theodore Berzins,” Qrow says.  _ “Current _ headmaster of Shade Academy—or so I thought. What happened? Actually, we can talk on the way, got one of her agents to deal with. Since James  _ apparently _ wanted my kids dead but left  _ Arthur fucking Watts _ alive.”

“Not anymore, he isn’t.” Biz—Theo?—shifts his weight to one side. “Where’s James? If he’s come to his senses, this is something he needs to hear too.”

“Dead,” Ruby says miserably.

“I mean, he  _ might _ not be, but I’m not optimistic,” Qrow elaborates.

“Are you ever?” Biz asks dryly.

“Sometimes!” Qrow ignores the pointed look from both Biz and Clover and continues, “If he is, Atlas is going to need a new headmaster. And a new general, but that’s a lot further from my area of expertise. So, since you’re not at Shade anymore…”

Taking a small step back, Ruby opens her scroll again and navigates to the contact labeled  _ Auntie Grace. _ She reopens their message history.

_ “Wow, didn’t think you had it in you. I’m impressed,” _ Salem’s final text says.  _ “Normally I’d hear that kind of news from Watts, but it seems he’s dead too.” _

_ “Yeah, _ ” Ruby texts back.  _ “You’re actually the second person I heard that from.” _

* * *

The General isn’t answering his texts. There isn’t even a  _ read _ notification. Nothing after her first text, no indication of what’s happened or what Ironwood has done. What he likely is doing, right now.

He’s got to be busy. That’s got to be it. But with what? 

Winter sends another text that will linger unread and returns her attention to the conversation happening without her.

“So you’re  _ Pyrrha Nikos. _ As in,  _ the _ Pyrrha Nikos that  _ died _ in the Fall of Beacon,  _ that _ Pyrrha Nikos.” Marrow sounds even more skeptical than he looks. “And somehow, Cinder’s semblance…”

“Kept me from moving on to the next life and forced me to fight on her behalf,” says the girl who looks and sounds very much like Huntsman Jaune Arc. “You’ve got it so far.”

“And somehow, when she died, you wound up in Jaune’s body instead of disappearing entirely.”

“Thank Jaune. I didn’t think it would work.”

“Thank you, Jaune,” Penny says quietly. She’s still shaking a little. “And thank you, Pyrrha. I’m sorry, I’m… I’ll be fine.”

Jaune’s—Pyrrha’s—face twists up into something sorrowful. She nods. “I’m sorry too. I wish I’d had a chance to get to know you better, before… well, everything.”

“Well, I don’t think either of you are going anywhere now,” May points out. “So you’ve got plenty of time. And… hey, Penny? It’s okay to not be okay.”

“Is it?” Penny asks. She sounds genuinely unsure. 

“Yes,” Winter says, and it sounds like a betrayal. But it’s worth it to see Penny’s shoulders slump in visible relief. 

She’d hidden how badly she was affected by Beacon and what happened there  _ so well. _ Everyone had assumed…  _ Winter _ had assumed that she was fine. But beneath the bubbly-as-ever exterior…

She wasn’t. She isn’t. Honestly, she may never be. Trauma is like that, and Penny’s had it worse than just about anyone. 

As Winter fires off another useless text to Ironwood, Marrow clears his throat awkwardly. “And…  _ you’re _ definitely Fall now. Not Jaune.”

“Just me,” Pyrrha agrees. “Don’t think Jaune is eligible. It’s… funny, actually, I was so ready to become Fall once. When Ozpin asked me to, before Beacon fell. And now I am, and everything’s changed so much.”

She pauses for a moment, listening, and then adds, “At least some things stay the same.”

Ironwood  _ still _ isn’t responding to Winter. Maybe his scroll is broken. That’s got to be it. Either that or he’s actively involved in a firefight, but in his condition… not a chance. With that in mind, her next best option is Clover.

He, of course, responds immediately. But not with a text. Winter stares at her ringing scroll for what feels like forever.

“Better see what he wants,” May says.

Winter nods wordlessly. Lacking the energy to argue or even tell the others to stay quiet, just in case—in case of what? She hasn’t done anything wrong—she hits the button to accept. And then the button for speaker.

“Hi,” Winter says, for lack of anything better. “This is… Special Operative Schnee. Have you had any contact with the General lately?”

Clover winces. “You sound terrible. You know that?”

“Believe me, I am  _ well _ aware. Where are you? Have you seen—”

“Not since he… I met him in the vault. And he… he jumped. Over the edge.”

_ “What?” _

“No, I haven’t seen him since he jumped and tried to take me with him,” Clover repeats. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What the  _ fuck?” _ Marrow says. “Cloves. Please tell me you’re kidding. He didn’t…”

“He did. I’m lucky to be alive.” A brief pause, and an audible  _ groan _ from Clover’s end of the call. “Pun actually not intended, for once.”

“Well, I’d ask if you’re okay, but you’re  _ obviously _ not.”

“Not at all. He was already in a bad way when I got here. Paranoid. He didn’t trust me. Then… the new Winter Maiden was the final straw, I guess.”

“So he… killed himself… because  _ my _ mission failed.” Winter stares down at the scroll in her hand. A few words of protest start to come through from Clover on the other end, but nothing registers in her mind. As her eyes begin to glaze over, she silently moves one thumb to hang up the call. 

She blinks, and shakes her head sharply. “Atlas is leaderless,” she announces. The professional facade is there again, as it should be. Always. “Those who answered directly to the General are Clover, Penny, and all Special Operatives. Salem is still a threat, so  _ one _ of us will have to take command.”

Pyrrha looks around. Her gaze lingers on Penny for a moment before her attention returns to Winter. “It sounds to me like one of you already has.”

It takes a moment for it to click. “No. Clover’s next in line. Then me, then Penny—”

“Then the rest of the Ace Ops,” Marrow finishes. “You’re the highest ranking here, though. But, uh… can I suggest something?”

Winter waves a hand wearily. “Go ahead.”

“Salem’s a threat. Obviously. But we need to focus on mending bridges, not burning them. We’ll need all the help we can get to keep Atlas,  _ and _ Mantle, safe.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll text Clover.” But… her fingers are shaking.  _ Why _ are her fingers shaking, they shouldn’t…

“So, if that’s taken care of, one more thing we need to deal with here and now.” Pyrrha—if she  _ is _ still Pyrrha, but Winter’s pretty sure Jaune slouches more. “I know it’s ridiculous to say nobody outside this room can know I’m alive, never mind  _ Fall, _ but we need to keep me as quiet as possible. Word of who Cinder’s replacement is  _ can’t _ get back to Salem.”

Of all the people to nod, it’s Penny who does so first and almost immediately. “She’ll kill you again, won’t she?”

“Quite possibly.” Pyrrha listens for a moment before adding, “Jaune seems to think Ozpin is about on the same level of trustworthiness, which is  _ not _ what I remember, but I’ll accept that. I just… he’s a lot less likely to send someone out to kill me again. To kill  _ us. _ I wouldn’t want to die again if it was just me, but now that it’s  _ both _ of us? I’m  _ not _ willing to take any unnecessary chances. Are we clear?”

Nods all around. Only when Pyrrha’s satisfied do her eyes flash yellow, and she—no, that’s got to be Jaune now—looks around uncertainly.

“That, uh… happened,” Jaune says. “So! Um, does this mean the military won’t be trying to arrest us anymore? That would be nice. Seeing as we, you know, didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I’ll have to check to make sure,” Winter replies, “but I’d be optimistic.”

* * *

It’s entirely possible that Ozpin’s robot body  _ could _ survive a long fall such as, say, from the bottom of the Atlas vault all the way down to Mantle. It is, after all, sturdily built, and he certainly has no shortage of aura.

On the other hand, that’s not the sort of thing he has time to test when  _ Salem is here _ and apparently, he’s the only one who still cares about stopping her. James, for all his insistence on standing their ground, wants to flee with a fraction of humanity, sacrificing the rest to  _ her. _

Team RWBY might be  _ far _ more comfortable with Salem than he’d like, but they’ll be busy with James. All he has to do is catch up with Salem and take the lamp  _ back. _

Easier said than done, of course, but nowhere  _ near _ as difficult as those girls would make it seem.

Getting back up there is going to be the easy part of tonight, and yet it’s  _ still _ not easy. His self-installed rocket boosters had failed to start for nearly a full minute, he can’t fly  _ up _ nearly as fast as he had been falling  _ down, _ and then there’s the  _ Grimm. _ Constant reminders of what, and  _ who, _ awaits him at the top.

Constant reminders that he keeps having to fight off, and that takes even  _ more _ time. But he’s almost there. A blast of green magic through a griffin’s chest here, a solid  _ thunk _ dissolving another there, a series of rapid jabs that he  _ refuses _ to refer to the way Oscar does to deal with a swarm of fratterkies…

Except the last one dissolves before he gets to it. Ozpin watches, with a mix of intrigue and horror, as the smoke it left behind fails to disperse, and instead flies toward a pair of teryces. They melt away in turn. One Grimm after another, slowly at first, then faster and faster until there’s a massive cloud of evil hovering over Atlas.

Ozpin shoots up after it. Where there’s abnormal Grimm behavior, Salem must also be. And yet, as he gains a better view of it, there’s no sign of her. Just a thick bubble of dark ichor with a massive region of air trapped inside, beginning to take on the familiar Grimm spines and teeth of a single enormous…

Is that supposed to be a  _ whale? _

* * *

“That… can’t have been the last of them,” Thursby says haltingly. “We barely even blasted ‘em.”

Boon shrugs, but sets down his gun for now. “Won’t catch me complainin’ about less Grimm.”

“Except when less Grimm here means more for  _ others _ to fear.”

“Checkmate, Legs,” Roky says with a (half-hearted, not genuinely malicious) glare. “You can’t rhyme ‘them’ with ‘em.’ That’s basically the same damn word.”

“Hey, if it rhymes, it rhymes. And I rhyme all the time! Can’t expect me to  _ always _ be sublime.”

Roky audibly sighs. “Legs. Thursby.  _ Buddy. _ Do you  _ have _ to rhyme?”

“Of course. At least until my throat goes hoarse.”

“And then he won’t be talking at all.” Boon swings an arm around Thursby’s shoulders. “Really, though, we love your rhyming—”

“Speak for yourself, lover boy,” Roky teases.

To Boon’s credit, he only flushes a little. “Just be careful about it, yeah? Rhyming doesn’t matter if you fuck up and die.”

“Yeah, I know,” Thursby agrees. “Thinking of rhymes won’t be how I go. Sides, doesn’t matter right now. Little Duck won’t let us down.”

_ “Hey!” _ Little Duck chimes in through Thursby’s earpiece.  _ “You’ve still got to be careful! But yeah, Eudi would actually kill me if any of you got hurt. So maybe don’t tempt fate. Maybe…” _ She trails off.  _ “Holy shitting void.” _

“What?” Roky asks.

_ “Look up. All of you. Now.” _

Thursby releases his concentration from the camera drone he’d been repurposing, and does so. There’s definitely  _ something _ there. Some kind of dark thing nearly the size of Atlas, still visibly growing with every passing second. A… Grimm?

“Holy shitting void,” Roky echoes. “If we have to fight  _ that… _ I think I’d rather take my chances with the million small Grimm. Guns work against fratterkies. That scrapper’s fucking  _ huge. _ ”

Three teenage faunus vigilantes and a fourth on a nearby roof watch as the gigantic Grimm circles Atlas once, twice. Little dark streaks of what must be Grimm ichor join with it on each pass around, until finally there’s nothing more left to add to its bulk. 

Then, the Grimm—it almost looks like a whale—ascends further. It flies, swimming ponderously through the air until it’s hovering directly over the CCT tower. It lingers there for a time, a monstrous puppet on invisible strings.

And then, as inexplicably as it appeared, and as abruptly, it falls onto that central spike. The Grimm whale lets out a death scream, and  _ explodes _ into a thick, black rain. Atlas is covered in it.

Mantle, ironically enough, is spared. Black mist rises from the city above, from every street and building and unlucky huntsman out in it, and then it’s gone. 

“What the fuck was that?” Boon says at last.

_ “Well, some kind of Grimm,” _ LD supplies,  _ “but beyond that I’m just as clueless as you lot.” _

“Is… that it, then?” Thursby asks. “Is the city safe?”

“I’ve never heard of anyone who could repurpose Grimm into another shape,” Boon says, still staring up at the distant cloud of dark smoke. “Whoever it was, sounds like we should be thanking them.”

_ “Best tread lightly for a bit longer. If Ironwood’s to be believed, I think we know exactly who did that.” _ Little Duck isn’t often optimistic, after all. When she is, it’s for a  _ very _ good reason, and this is no exception. _ “But, for now… maybe it is over.” _

There’s not another Grimm seen, in Atlas  _ or _ Mantle, for the next week.

* * *

As far as meetings after disasters go, Biz has been in more than his fair share as both Theodore Berzins and The Business. If he’s learned anything from them, it’s that the response  _ after _ a crisis is nearly as important – if not slightly more so – than the response  _ during _ the crisis. Hence why whatever comes out of this meeting is going to be so important for all factions involved, and why he strongly suspects everyone else is corresponding with others on the outside too. 

A voice call to Eudico, with her end muted, does the trick for Vox nicely. Particularly since Biz has it on good authority that she and Ticker are currently holed up at Little Duck’s place, will be for the foreseeable future, and have Thursby at least with them—probably the other two kids, as well. Honestly, he’s probably being the most subtle about it. Everyone here has their scrolls out, and there’s no obvious explanation for why people keep checking them except that.

Although he’s quite certain that, if anyone were to  _ ask, _ no one would actually admit they were keeping contact with the outside, never mind with whom. Biz has his own excuse lined up, should it be necessary. But he doubts it will be, given that  _ he’s _ not checking for a new text every five seconds or typing something in return every ten.

“Thank you all for coming,” Winter says eventually, looking up from her scroll. “Given the circumstances, it is likely best that we go over what we know for sure, first.”

She stands in front of her chair, clasps her hands behind her back, and continues, “General Ironwood is, most likely, dead. Ace Operatives Marrow Amin, Harriet Bree, Elm Ederne, and Vine Zeki are searching and will update me at once should they find anything.”

“In the meantime,” Ace Operative Clover Ebi adds, “we’ll be operating under the assumption that he is, given that I don’t think he…” He stiffens a little. “Intended to survive.”

Oh,  _ that’s _ interesting. There’s some lingering guilt for sure, but that doesn’t explain why he’s here except to have a third military presence. Really, he shouldn’t be. From Biz’s understanding, the Ace Ops run operations either all together or in groups of two or three, not four together without their leader.

He’s also almost certain that it’s not them Clover is texting updates to. Likely Qrow, then. Good. That saves Biz from having to give him a summary after the fact.

“We need to fill the positions of General and Headmaster, temporarily at the very least.”

“Oh, I agree,” says the kingdom’s newest councilwoman. “The entire reason we had the  _ last _ election was so we weren’t missing  _ one _ seat, never mind two. But you know, this crisis could have been a  _ lot _ worse if Ironwood had gotten his way. And, with two seats…”

“He should not have had two seats,” Penny Polendina, local android and Special Operative herself, pipes up. “Not unless he was willing to accept the consequences of what his choices would cause—and he wasn’t.”

“So what I’m getting here,” Biz says, “is that we all want the positions of Headmaster and General, and the council seats with them, to be separated again. Am I wrong?”

Headshakes and murmured assent all around. Penny looks at him strangely. “You’re… the representative from Vox Faunus, correct?”

“Correct. Facial recognition, I take it?”

“Yes. What is the head—”

“Miss Polendina,” Biz interrupts, “while it’s interesting and a little concerning that you can identify me on sight, I’d ask that you save your findings for a little later.”

Penny nods wordlessly.

Clover clears his throat. “Finding a new general, given that the kingdom is in disarray and the military even more so, should be our top priority. Before we get to that, I’d like to—”

“There  _ is _ one obvious candidate for General right here.” Winter looks pointedly at him. “Not to mention next in the official line of succession.”

“Unfortunately, the obvious candidate for General doesn’t want the position.” The candidate in question smiles. “I was going to wait a bit longer for this, but you know, might as well drop the bombshell now. I’m resigning.”

Everyone in the room freezes in their seats. It’s to the point where if Biz didn’t know better, he’d think May was the Happy Huntress here instead of Robyn. 

“What?” Penny asks. Her all-too-human eyes are wide.

“I’m resigning,” Clover repeats. “From the Ace Ops. Also the military as a whole.”

_ “What?” _ The best way to describe Winter’s expression is that she looks like she got hit by a truck. Maybe even an airship. “You can’t… well, no, you can, obviously. But why? We don’t have anyone else remotely qualified to serve as the new general.”

“We have you, don’t we? As for why…” From nearly directly across the table, Clover’s gaze finds Biz’s. “Getting stabbed tends to put things into perspective. Particularly if you actually died for about a minute there.”

“It wasn’t a full minute,” Biz says mildly. “Given that you were stabbed thirty-one seconds before you stopped breathing, you wouldn’t be here if it was. Eighty seconds was the maximum I could feasibly go back.”

This does absolutely nothing to stop all eyes from going to him. His scroll buzzes with a text he’ll later find out is from Little Duck:  _ excuse me wtf?? _

“You didn’t say you  _ died,” _ Winter says.

Clover shrugs. “Haven’t had time to write up a formal report yet. Robyn was there too.”

“You’re forgetting that I was unconscious at the time,” Robyn retorts. In a quick, deliberate movement, she stuffs her scroll under her leg and sits on it. “Nobody told  _ me _ you literally died.”

“Well, I did. And it happened  _ because _ I lost sight of what it meant to be a huntsman. It’s important that the military be able to utilize the capabilities of the hunters of Grimm, but they—we—can’t forget that we’re military second, and protectors of the people,  _ all _ the people, first.”

“Damn. If this is what happens, maybe we should stab  _ more _ of the military.”

“No,” Winter says flatly.

“Absolutely  _ not, _ you’re extraordinarily lucky that  _ you _ survived and even if I were confident in my ability to revive people,  _ which I am not,” _ Biz glares at no one in particular, “that is no reason to  _ stab people, _ Councilwoman Hill.”

Robyn almost looks disappointed, but she nods. “So… General Schnee?”

“What? I didn’t…” Winter takes a deep breath in a futile attempt to regain her composure. “I did not agree to this. If Captain Ebi is resigning, I’m sure there are others better suited to the position.”

“There really aren’t,” Clover says. “Unless someone else has a better suggestion?”

“None of the other Ops,” Robyn says pointedly. “And Penny, I love you, I really do, but you’re not exactly…”

“Experienced,” Penny chirps. “I would not make a good general at this time, though I would try my best if I was appointed to the position. In several years, maybe! But right now? I’m for Winter.”

“As am I,” Biz agrees. “Got a few friends who aren’t your  _ biggest _ fans—”

His scroll buzzes again. Biz studiously avoids looking at it. “But even they’d agree that you are, objectively speaking, the best choice for the job of the available candidates.”

“You’re not perfect,” Robyn says, “but you can’t possibly be as bad as Ironwood.”

Winter looks like she wants to say something, but swallows it. She nods. “I… do not wish to speak ill of our former general. But his actions these last few days have been inconsistent with what a general  _ should _ do when faced with an invasion of any magnitude barring overwhelming.”

“That’s a real nice way of saying he was going to commit genocide on his own people ‘cause Salem made him piss his pants,” Robyn says.

“If you want me to denounce him entirely, you’ll have to keep waiting. He did a lot of good. The way he is remembered should reflect the man he was, not the man he became in fear.” Winter closes her eyes. “I will take the position of General, if there is truly no one better suited.”

_ “Technically, _ the only people here who have a say is the actual military,” Biz points out. “But I think Clover and Penny have both made their thoughts pretty clear.”

“Don’t want the job, and you’d likely do a better job than me anyway,” Clover says. Penny simply nods.

“In that case,” Robyn says, “welcome to the Council, General Schnee! Still got a few other things to figure out, I think. Like who the new Captain of the Ace Ops will be, and what to do with Ironwood’s  _ other _ position.”

“I don’t want it,” Winter says immediately.

“Good. Would have fought you tooth and nail if you did.”

Penny looks at Biz meaningfully. He sighs, resigns himself to his fate, and nods.

“None of you know who this is, do you?” Penny asks, gesturing quite emphatically to the seated faunus on her right. But it’s a rhetorical question, and she steamrolls right ahead. “You know him as the representative from Vox. The Business. Maybe even Theo Bishop—that’s his legal identity in  _ this _ kingdom. Quartermaster of one of the SDC mines.”

“Where are you going with this, Penny?” Winter asks.

“Does anyone have a pair of glasses? Reading glasses are  _ more _ than fine.”

“I do.” Biz sighs, and draws them out. “Here.”

He hasn’t used them in  _ ages. _ Somehow, he doesn’t get the feeling Penny plans on using them for their intended purpose either, although she does put them on. She’s practically bouncing with excitement.

“What if I told you,” she pushes the glasses up on her face with a single finger, eyes flashing behind them, “that his true identity was  _ Headmaster Theodore Berzins of Shade Academy?” _

Silence fills the room. In that oppressive, foreboding silence, Penny takes off the glasses and hands them back to their owner with a whispered word of thanks.

“Well, I believed Qrow, but… what happened?” Clover asks. “Why are you here and not in Vacuo?”

“I believe,” the man once called Theodore replies, “that everyone here is familiar with Salem?”

He’s not particularly surprised to get nods all around. The only person that might not have is Robyn, and from what he knows of her from living in the same place and working toward similar goals, he knows that there are few things in this world that can be hidden from her for long.

“Several years ago, I was approached by one of her agents. He gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. Either I agreed to work against Ozpin and everything I stood for, or I died and  _ Teshin _ took my place.” Theodore scoffs. “I couldn’t  _ accept, _ either. But my options were limited. In the end, I let Teshin believe he had killed me, sent a missive to Ozpin warning him that I was no longer to be trusted, and fled to Atlas. James and I had always been on good terms, after all, and I was sure he would help.”

“But he never did,” Robyn guesses.

“He never knew I was here. I made the mistake of  _ trying _ to slip into Mantle quietly, the same mistake a certain group of young huntsmen and huntresses made much more recently. If it wasn’t for Vox… or perhaps more accurately, for some of the people who would later  _ become _ Vox, I wouldn’t have survived the night.”

His scroll buzzes. If he had to guess, that one’s from Eudico herself.

“My original plan,” he continues, “was to lay low for a while and sneak up to Atlas when I had the chance. But… as far as I knew, Ozpin had received my message and passed it on to the others, so my school was safe. The faunus of Mantle, on the other hand, needed me  _ far _ more urgently than Ozpin or James did. And if James was willing to neglect a part of his people this much, I wasn’t sure if I wanted him to know I was alive, either.”

“I don’t think the message ever went through,” Clover says after a not at  _ all _ subtle glance at his scroll.

“No, it didn’t,” Winter agrees. “All along, there was an impostor among us. Two, if you count Lionheart.”

“I don’t think Salem approached him for some time after me. One of her more recent agents let slip that the man who replaced me defected away from Salem’s side. Why she hasn’t had him killed yet, I can’t fathom, unless he has found someone else to protect him from both sides…” Theodore clears his throat. “The fact remains that yes, I was headmaster of Shade Academy. The Theodore Berzins there today is nothing more than an impostor.”

“And it will take time and resources we don’t have to unmask him as such. Perhaps once Amity has been launched, but…” Winter sighs. “The fact of the matter remains that we need a headmaster for  _ Atlas _ Academy, and you are  _ definitively _ the best person for the job. If you wish, we can—”

“I’ll do it, on one condition.” His scroll is about to explode with texts. “Any member of Vox Faunus who I deem skilled enough will receive a huntsman license or, if they are young enough, guaranteed admission to Atlas Academy.”

“Agreed. Do you have anyone in mind for your second?”

“Actually, yes.” His scroll is already buzzing practically nonstop. “Are you familiar with the name Little Duck?”

Much to his surprise, Winter nods… almost  _ enthusiastically? _ Is that a hint of a blush? 

“I’m familiar with her, yes. I think she’ll make an excellent choice.”

She has no idea at all, does she? Oh dear. LD has always had some choice things to say about Winter, and she certainly does a good job of keeping her vigilante identity separate from the rest. 

“So: General Schnee, Headmaster Berzins,” Robyn says, “that sounds pretty okay to me. How about the Ace Ops?”

“What about them?” Winter asks.

“Well, Cloves is leaving, and I know who  _ I’d _ want to lead them but I’m betting it’s not who  _ you _ had in mind.”

“Harriet?”

“Marrow.”

_ “Marrow?” _ Winter’s mostly-returned composure all but shatters. “Why would you—no, while he  _ is _ quite competent, he lacks the experience both within the Ace Ops and without that Harriet possesses. Harriet was a huntress years before she joined the Ace Operatives, and she joined the same year—”

“That I did,” Clover says, “but Marrow  _ was _ only one year behind us. I’d weigh them about equally myself.”

“Marrow,” Robyn says firmly, “is the only remaining Ace Operative who we can be  _ sure _ will put the people above the military if it comes to that again. Also, he was the only one there when May accidentally committed identity theft.”

“When May did  _ what?” _

“She became Winter.  _ You’re _ Winter.” Despite her gesture at Winter (the general), nobody seems to appreciate her joke. Robyn sighs. “Never mind. Point is, Marrow was there for that,  _ and _ for the new Fall. The new Fall whose identity  _ must _ be kept need-to-know only. Marrow can keep a secret, you’re going to need May’s cooperation, and we all know the only reason he  _ didn’t _ get into the Ace Ops first try was because of—”

“Okay! Fine. Marrow can lead the Ace Ops.” Winter’s unhappy glance towards her scroll proves who it is she’s in contact with. She’s probably regretting that right about now. “So I’m to be the new general, Theodore is to be the new headmaster, and Marrow is to be the new captain of the Ace Operative Unit. Is there anything else we need to cover right now?”

Theodore  _ would _ have said no, but then the doors to what was formerly General Ironwood’s office, now with a table in the middle and chairs brought in from elsewhere, burst open.

The figure standing there looks… a little like Penny, actually, if Penny had much shorter white hair. He definitely doesn’t look quite human – or faunus either, for that matter. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes. Maybe it’s the lack of a visible weapon.

Theodore doesn’t recognize him. He seems to be alone in that. Though Robyn looks a little unsure as well. 

“Oh  _ good, _ you  _ are _ awake!” Penny cheers. “How are you feeling?”

“Could be better,” the new robot (maybe?) says. “Why wasn’t I informed of this meeting’s occurrence?”

Strike that, this robot  _ is _ familiar somehow. But how? He’s barely familiar with Penny. Unless… Theodore leans to the side to see if he’s carrying anything out of sight. And he  _ is. _

“Are you  _ supposed _ to be here?” Robyn asks. “Because if not, that could  _ definitely _ account for it. And last I heard, there was only  _ one _ Penny.”

“Oh, there  _ is _ just one Penny,” Penny says. “And she’s always combat-ready! This is—”

“Ozpin,” Theodore says. It’s not a greeting, not a warning, but a statement.  _ How _ did he wind up in a robot body? But it has to be him, no one else would be carrying his cane unless they were keeping it for him. And the young huntresses had said they’d been traveling with Oz himself. 

Ozpin looks at him, finally. “Theodore? What are  _ you _ doing in Atlas?”

“Hiding from the agent of Salem who took my place as headmaster, which you evidently did  _ not _ receive my warning about.”

“So Shade has been compromised, too.” Ozpin shakes his head. “No matter. You’ll be back in charge soon enough. I’ll need  _ someone _ trustworthy there, and I’m already unsure of the new headmistress at Haven.”

“What about Atlas?” Winter asks. “As the new general—”

“Oh, you’ve all already chosen? I suppose a hasty decision could not be avoided, but you’ll do for now. As for the new headmaster here…” Ozpin frowns. “It was unfortunate, yet sadly unavoidable, that my old body died at Beacon. Nevertheless, I am the same headmaster I always was, and I am willing to put my own kingdom aside and serve Atlas and its Academy for the foreseeable future.”

Penny raises a hand. “I have a message! From someone who I certainly have not been streaming this entire meeting to—” She hiccups. “No sir!”

When she opens her mouth again, it’s not her own voice that comes out, but that of Ruby.  _ “Hi friends, hi Oz, so you really shouldn’t listen to him.” _

“What?” Ozpin says. “Miss Rose—”

_ “Oh no. Don’t you ‘Miss Rose’ me. Only my professors get to call me that, and I don’t ever want you in that kind of position again. If you want the loyalty of the next generation of huntsmen and huntresses, you’re going to have to  _ earn _ it. Not just take it by default through some position of authority.”  _

“I don’t know what you think you’re saying, but–”

_ “Not to mention the fact that Ozpin was perfectly willing to let, what was it you said to us, a hundred thousand people die in some hopeless fight to reclaim the lamp. Sure, better than Ironwood killing millions, but do you really want either of those as your headmaster? When instead you could have someone who’s fought for the forgotten people of Mantle for years?” _

Ruby pauses and Penny starts to close her mouth, but then the words just keep coming through. _ “The Ace Ops proved what a bad idea it is for huntsmen to also be soldiers. But that’s exactly what Ozpin wants us to be: soldiers, in  _ his _ war against Salem. If you’re separating Ironwood’s two jobs, then separate the whole institutions too. A Huntsman Academy should train huntsmen. It’s that simple. We need to train students to put  _ lives _ first, the lives of the present and the future, not just some relics of the past.” _

“Very well put,” Robyn says, before being cut off by an increasingly angry Ozpin. 

“And just  _ how _ do you expect to protect lives and do your huntress duty when  _ she _ has the Relics? She could use them to destroy the world!”

_ “So could you. Isn’t it better that they’re split up, then? So neither of you has them all?” _

Winter clears her throat. “Getting back to the  _ immediate _ point, it was already decided that Headmaster Berzins should lead Atlas from now on. Ruby did manage to make a good point, that a headmaster should be focused on teaching above all, and this should be entirely separate from military matters.”

“I have decades of experience in the role,” Ozpin protests. “I was the first headmaster of Beacon  _ and _ the fourth, as well as centuries of teaching before the Academies existed. I can personally train someone in  _ any _ fighting style. I can protect the staff just as I did the crown, and prevent anyone from either dropping Atlas or sending it away.”

“Same with Theo,” Robyn says. “Literally all of that applies just as well to him.  _ He’s _ got a decade or two of experience, I know Shade was always renowned as the best school for versatility, and to be quite honest it’s  _ May _ who’s protecting the staff these days, not a headmaster. My vote is still for Berzins.”

Clover glances at his scroll, and when he speaks he’s almost certainly relaying the opinion of the man on the other end. “Ozpin, we know you’re a fine teacher. But we also know where your priorities lie. I can’t imagine you wanting to tie yourself down in one spot for the foreseeable future, not right now.”

This more than anything seems to finally break his resolve. “Fine,” Ozpin mutters. “But if you’re staying here, then who’s dealing with the agent at Shade?”

“As soon as Amity goes live, Shade itself can,” Theodore says. “I know Rumpole’s still there as Teshin’s second as she was for me, and if I ask her to rally the students and take him down, they will. Void, she might not even  _ need _ the students.”

“Then it’s settled,” Robyn says. “Theo will be the new headmaster. Winter will be the new general. Marrow will be the new leader of the Ace Ops. And  _ you _ will be… quiet.”

Ozpin glares at her. Robyn meets it with a smile. Eventually, the former headmaster, current robot huffs angrily and says, “Fine. See how much I care. It’s not like I wanted to run a school like  _ this _ one anyway.”

With that, he leaves, and Theodore has to wrestle with the distinct realization that someone he formerly looked up to is currently acting like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

Also the fact that he is, apparently, a headmaster all over again. A part of him thinks he could have lived without that, but on the other hand, he missed teaching. There’s only so much you can show the various kids and young adults hanging around Vox when said organization is 1) illegal and 2) nowhere near as well supplied as an actual academy.

Atlas Academy isn’t exactly known for being easy to get into, and it shouldn’t be. But maybe he can make it a little easier for students who wouldn’t otherwise try.


	34. Part 3 Episode 9: To Each Blade Its Sheath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Happy Huntresses gain a new member. So do the SDC mine workers, for a day. Team RWBY and friends are invited to a celebration, but a more somber event comes first.

“Hi, Ruby!” Fiona holds open the door to the Happy Huntresses’ house. “Thanks for coming. Robyn’s waiting for you inside.”

Ruby smiles as she enters, and makes her way to the living room. It feels like it hasn’t been that long since she was here with Nora, Ticker, and LD – and really, it hasn’t been, even though so much has happened. The woman she’d met then, so passionate about Mantle’s rights, now sits on the kingdom’s Council and can make her wishes a reality. 

Although, her girlfriend’s sister  _ also _ sits on the Council now, and to be honest that’s even weirder. 

“Ah, welcome. Thanks for joining us.” Robyn meets her in the doorway and ushers her in. 

Lis is there in her same spot on the edge of the couch, typing away. Robyn takes a few steps toward her, but then doesn’t sit. May and Joanna aren’t here. 

But someone else is.  _ Neo. _ Ruby stops in her tracks and puts one hand to the scythe across her back. 

“Wait!” Robyn holds up her hands. “No fighting, please. It’s time for you two to settle your differences, peacefully.”

“I don’t even know what our differences  _ are,” _ Ruby protests. “Except that Neo nearly killed my sister in Vale, and then attacked my friends here the other day!”

Neo glares at her, and taps the end of her parasol on the floor. 

“Neo has some questions for you,” Robyn says, and holds out a hand. “If you’d be willing to answer them truthfully?”

“Uh, sure?” Ruby takes the offered hand, and pale purple aura glows around their connection. 

“Thank you. First… How did you and Neo first meet?”

“Um…” Ruby racks her brain for when she’d first seen her, personally. “After Blake infiltrated that White Fang meeting!” she finally comes up with. “My whole team fought Torchwick in his Paladin mech. We destroyed it, and then Neo came out of nowhere to pick him up in an airship.”

The aura around their joined hands blinks green. 

“Torchwick, that’s…” Robyn looks to Neo. “Roman, your father?”

Neo nods. 

“Okay Ruby, what about him? How did you meet?”

“Months earlier. It was the day I was admitted to Beacon.” Ruby gives Neo a look, and continues. “I was minding my own business, reading a magazine in a dust shop, when Torchwick decided to rob the place. I chased him off, and that got the attention of Professor Goodwitch. It’s because of that, that I was let into Beacon two years early. So… thanks, I guess?”

Still green. 

“Now, you mentioned Neo fighting your sister? What happened there?”

Ruby’s eyes narrow. “Torchwick and Neo were working with  _ Cinder. _ The one behind the Fall of Beacon.” 

“We know who Cinder is. May was there the other day, remember.”

“I think it was like, an early version of the Fall of Beacon, that was changed to the Vytal tournament plan later after this one failed? I don’t know. They had a train in an abandoned tunnel and they were setting off bombs to draw in Grimm from the caves. My team was there trying to stop it.”

Off to the side, Neo looks impatient, but for what? Ruby shrugs, and continues. “We split up, each fought different people. Yang fought Neo. She didn’t stand a chance. I don’t know if she even landed a single hit.”

Neo grins, and shakes her head. 

“Yang’s mother showed up and saved her. If she hadn’t, Neo would have killed her.”

The aura around Ruby and Robyn’s hands flickers, but stays green. Across the room, Neo angrily scribbles on a sheet of paper, then marches over to shove it at Robyn. 

“Let’s talk about the Fall of Beacon,” Robyn says, reading the note. “You confronted Neo and her father on top of an airship?”

“That’s right. It was just after Cinder made her announcement and the Grimm came. There were griffons and nevermores everywhere. Beacon has rocket-propelled weapon lockers and I rode one off of Amity Colosseum to get to the airship.”

“God  _ damn,” _ Lis interrupts. “That’s a bold move. Even for someone with a flight semblance.”

“We fought. Neo first, then Torchwick joined her. I couldn’t do anything to them either, they were just too good. Especially Neo!”

Neo opens her parasol, then thrusts it backward over her head and takes a few quick steps back. She glares at Ruby, then closes it again and points it directly at her. 

“Yes, I know, I did it. I’m sorry.” Ruby looks to Robyn now instead. “She had me hanging off the side of the airship by one hand. Just standing over me for a moment. So I reached up and pushed the button on her umbrella to open it. And, in the wind…”

Neo slams the tip of her parasol on the floor again. She gestures all around herself with one hand, pointing at nothing on the walls and ceiling, and seeing Ruby and Robyn’s blank looks, finally sweeps a hand behind her and erects a glass wall painted with a sky full of Grimm. 

“Right,” Robyn says. “Griffons and nevermores everywhere, you said. Would I be correct in interpreting… Ruby, were you  _ trying _ to get Neo killed by Grimm, by throwing her off the side into all that?”

“No! Of course not!”

The aura around their joined hands blinks red. Ruby looks down in horror and surprise, as the long blade flicks out of the end of Neo’s parasol. 

“Alright, fine! Maybe I was?”

The indicator stays red. 

“I don’t know! It was a long time ago now, and I… I don’t think I was thinking about you at all, either way! I admit it, I was just trying to save myself!”

Finally, the aura returns to green. Ruby lets out a sigh of relief, but Neo doesn’t seem to be any happier with this new admission. 

Neo waves her free hand and repaints the glass wall behind her. Now it shows the side of that airship from afar, with Neo herself standing over Ruby at its edge. She waits just a moment so everyone sees, and then another sweep replaces the image of Ruby with a swirl of red arcing back up to the top of the ship again. 

Ruby takes in a sharp breath. “You’re right… Why didn’t I think of using my semblance to get out of that?” And if she had, then… “I didn’t need to throw you overboard at all. I’m sorry. I don’t  _ want _ to hurt people, but I… we were already fighting, and I wasn’t thinking about that anymore.”

Neo stands with one hand on her hip, and rolls her eyes. Pink sparkles ripple over her body, and then Roman Torchwick stands in her place.

Ruby nods, and meets Robyn’s eyes. “I did not kill Torchwick,” she states clearly. The aura around her hand glows green.

“It’s true,” Robyn confirms. “Whatever else happened that night, she didn’t do that.”

Neo returns to her normal appearance and steps forward, giving Ruby a sharp glare. She raises one hand palm up, in a clear question. 

“Who? I told you before, it wasn’t anyone. He disarmed me and started beating me with his cane. Yelling about how ‘the real world is cruel’ or something. And then he stopped, he stepped back… I think he was just going to leave me up there and go back inside?”

Throughout everything, Ruby and Robyn’s hands continue glowing the same green. 

“And then… this giant griffon just dropped out of the sky and ate him! There was nothing I could do, even if–” Ruby hesitates, but forces herself to continue, quietly. “Even if I’d tried.”

Pink sparkles shimmer across Neo’s face, but nothing appears to change. She glares at Ruby and her parasol’s blade flicks in and out repeatedly, pointing first at Ruby’s throat and then Neo’s own, and finally coming to rest in the floor again. 

“The griffon crashed the ship. It, like… fell through the roof, or something, and blew out the engines? I don’t know, I just – I grabbed my weapon again and jumped. Into the same swarm of flying Grimm that I sent you into.”

No reaction from Neo at that. She’s just frozen there with her scowl. 

Perfectly immobile, actually, and that’s a little suspicious. 

Fiona is actually the first to notice. “Wait, Lis, what’s that about a…” She raises her hands and feels around herself in the empty air, only to find that to one side it’s not empty at all. “An illusion of  _ this room?” _

As Ruby and Robyn finally let go of each others’ hands, Fiona takes a swing at nothing. Glass shatters under her fist, an entire wall of it from where she stands past Ruby and Robyn and all the way to the far end of the room. With it goes the image they’d seen before, of an angry Neo intent on seeing the truth. 

Behind the illusion is a different scene entirely. Neo sits on the floor, silently sobbing into Lis’s arms, with parasol and keyboard both abandoned to the side. Neo glances up as her painted wall crashes into pieces, and Ruby can see her face is streaked with tears. 

Neo gestures at Ruby, a pointed finger thrust first at her, and then swung toward the house’s front door. She starts to repeat the action, but another bout of sobbing comes over her and she leans harder into Lis’s side. 

“Right,” Robyn says softly. “Probably best if you head out. We’ll take care of this from here. Thanks, Ruby.”

Ruby backs up a few steps, then turns and quietly slips away. The streets of Mantle are safe to walk alone, and she has a team to catch up with elsewhere. 

Robyn herself stays behind, and kneels on the floor next to Neo and Lis. “It’s hard losing someone like that,” she murmurs. “I know all too well. My mother, actually. Grimm, when I was little. That’s a lot of what pushed me to be a huntress.”

“But more than just the person,” Lis adds, “losing a sense of purpose is hard, and this isn’t the first time. Roman is gone, and now even revenge isn’t right anymore. But the thing about purpose is that you can  _ always _ find another, or create another, no matter what comes. And there’s one right here, if you want it.”

Fiona sits down with the others and offers a smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she says. “Even if it doesn’t feel okay right now. You’ve already made it this far.”

“You’ve already adapted to a new life once,” Robyn continues for her. “You can do it again. We’d be happy to help get you back on your feet again. Food, shelter, companionship… and if you really want revenge, there’s plenty of Grimm out there to take it out on.”

Tears still stream down Neo’s face, but she manages a nod. 

“It takes a lot of strength to let go of a goal you’ve chased for two years. But you’re doing the right thing. Ruby is innocent – of murder, in any case. And with Cinder gone, you’re free of her as well. Your life is your own, to make what you will of it.”

Robyn reaches into her jacket pocket and withdraws a metal pin shaped like a stylized bird with upswept wings, and offers it to Neo. “If you want to join our little group here, we’d love to have you. If not, that’s fine too, we’ll still–”

Neo grabs the pin out of her hand and leans forward to pull Robyn into a tight hug. When she pulls back again, she nods her head and wipes some of the tears off her cheeks. Together, they pin the emblem to one of her shoulder straps, matching those of the three huntresses around her. 

“Yes!” Fiona leaps to her feet and pumps one fist in the air. “Do you know what this means?”

The three confused looks in the face of her obvious joy are all the answer she needs. 

“I’m not the shortest Happy Huntress anymore!”

* * *

Willow never had a need to visit the mines before, nor did she want to. She knew  _ without _ seeing it in person that atrocities were being committed in Jacques’s name there, and she didn’t particularly want to know the specifics. It was easier that way, to cope—and she likely wouldn’t have had the ability to go down there herself anyway.

But everything is different now. Jacques is gone, and he’s never coming back. The kingdom improved nearly overnight with his death, surprise surprise, but it needs to  _ keep _ getting better. The dust mines, in particular, need fixing.

The dust mines that she is now, apparently, in charge of. That’s why she’s here now. Who would know better how to run it than those who work there themselves? Barring the enforcers, of course. Even Willow knows how bad  _ they _ are.

There aren’t any cameras. No reporters, no curious onlookers. That’s to be expected, given that this  _ is _ a completely unofficial visit and it is not coincidentally occurring well after working hours. Sienna had sounded really optimistic about it herself.

She does wish Sienna were here with her, but it’s for the best. Willow can do this. She can do this, and Sienna  _ had _ said she’d pick her up afterwards, and that it would be fine.

It’ll be fine. The woman waiting for her outside the mines, arms crossed and red hair whipping in the wind, doesn’t look  _ too _ intimidating. Really, nothing should scare her after Jacques.

“Good evening, I’m—”

“Willow Schnee,” the woman says. “I know who you are.”

“Ah,” Willow says weakly. “And you are…?”

“Eudico Bruin, floor boss.”

_ Oh. _ This  _ is _ who she’d reached out to. Good to know. Regaining her composure some, Willow extends a hand to shake. “It should go without saying—but I’m going to say it anyway—that what Jacques did to you…  _ all _ of you… was wrong. I’d like to make amends. In any way I can.”

Eudico’s eyebrows shoot up. She takes Willow’s hand in both of hers, shaking it firmly. It’s only after she lets go that Willow notices the fur on the back of her hands, and the toe beans.

Jacques would have been appalled, as if the way this woman exists is an affront against nature. Willow thinks it’s kind of cute, actually.

“Not gonna lie to you, there’s a lot,” Eudico says carefully. “But the mines are as good a place as any to start. If you’re serious about this, I’d be happy to show you around.”

And Willow is very serious, so she does. It’s clear from the beginning that it’s worse than she feared, and even Eudico herself admits there’s only so much that can even be touched on in one evening’s cursory look-over.

“Wish I could show you more now,” Eudico says at the end, “but I promised Ticker and D I’d be back in less than two hours or they’d assume I got kidnapped, text or no text. You’ve got a ride, right?”

Willow slips her scroll with an affirmatory text from Sienna back in her pocket and nods. “She’s on her way. You?”

Eudico shrugs. “I’ll walk, it’s not far. Honestly, my place would be closer, but better to avoid that.”

“Avoid what?” Willow raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know, just that my girlfriend’s cousin turned out to be a serial killer working for the woman who wants to destroy the world… or something like that. Ironwood’s broadcast wasn’t really that clear.” Eudico shrugs again. “So we’re both staying with our friend LD.”

Those initials sound familiar, but Willow chooses not to comment on them. Instead, she looks up, out from under the awning at the mine’s entrance. It’s raining, but not hard. It often rains in Mantle. It only rains in Atlas when those in charge want it to.

“A night like this would have made me want to drink my life away even more, once,” Willow comments, mostly to herself. 

Eudico’s head snaps up from her scroll. “What?”

“You—and I mean that in the most general sense—were far from the only people with grievances against him.” The rain intensifies. Eudico takes a step closer to the wall, and Willow joins her before adding, “He’s gone now. He’s  _ never _ coming back. Not after… what happened.” She looks down at her hand—the one that had held that fateful wine bottle—and then lets it drop to her side again. 

The bear faunus doesn’t comment on that, and for that Willow is grateful. Instead, she says, “You’re not the only one who tried to drink herself to death because of him, either. Doubt I’d be here if it wasn’t for Ticker and… others.”

“Others,” Willow agrees. “Like your friend LD. I don’t suppose those initials would stand for Little Duck?”

It’s clicked now for her. She’d reviewed her camera footage after Weiss and Yang escaped Jacques’s prison, and was surprised to see neither Sienna  _ nor _ Winter’s group lead them to safety. That woman had introduced herself as Little Duck, here on behalf of Vox Faunus.

“Nope. She’s a cat faunus. You think a cat faunus would call herself Little  _ Duck? _ Also, those aren’t initials. Her name’s just Eldee. Yeah?”

Alright then. Keep your secrets, Eudico Bruin.

“My apologies, then,” Willow says. “If you  _ did _ know Little Duck—or any other member of Vox Faunus—I would have asked you to tell them thank you for standing against him. Both times.”

_ “Both _ times? They  _ failed _ the first time.”

“But they proved it was possible to fight him. To outlast him. I  _ saw _ the effect they had. And the second wouldn’t have gotten off the ground without the first, would it?”

Slowly, Eudico nods. “Yeah, sure, okay. I’ll see what I can do to get that to them. No promises, though—Vox is anonymous for a reason.”

Vox certainly  _ is _ anonymous for a reason, but Sienna had been almost certain that this specific floor boss was a part of it at least. Perhaps even the leader. And while Willow is quite certain she wouldn’t have a clue if she hadn’t gone in with that idea, it all adds up.

“Of course.” Willow smiles. The smile fades as something occurs to her. “Out of… curiosity. Some of my daughter’s friends wound up in your mines for a while, only one of whom was faunus.”

“Yeah, I remember them. What about it? They’re out of there now, and I…” Eudico’s shoulders sag ever-so-slightly. “I did my best.”

“I’m sure you did,” Willow says quite genuinely. “But the fact remains: a human can pass as faunus, well enough at least to fool the enforcers?”

“Enforcers, yes. Any of the actual miners with functioning eyes, no. Where are you going with this?”

“What better way to know exactly what needs to be changed than to work in the mines for a day myself? To learn it firsthand, exactly as any other new hire would.”

A new voice interrupts them both to say, “Willow, I  _ love you _ but I hope you know you’re fucking insane.” Both Willow and Eudico turn to see a hooded, masked woman leaning against the wall. Sienna waves. “Hi, I’m her ride. You need one too?”

“Probably not,” Eudico says after a good few moments of staring. “It’ll lighten up soon. If it doesn’t, I can text my girlfriend… if we count as girlfriends? Whatever, I can still text her. See you tomorrow, then?”

“See you tomorrow,” Willow says firmly. She takes Sienna’s hand in hers.

“Ready?” Sienna asks.

“Just a moment,” Willow says. “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather stay dry.” She puts her other hand to her chest and focuses, and a white glyph shimmers into existence above both of their heads. _ “Now _ we can go.”

And they do, running out into the rain with a laugh and a smile. Eudico watches them go, progressively getting more and more confused. Willow Schnee has a  _ girlfriend? _ Come to think of it, that almost looks like a second set of distinctly catlike ears under that hood.

Willow Schnee has a  _ faunus _ girlfriend?

Damn. Good for her.

* * *

Finally,  _ finally, _ things might have calmed down a little. All the fighting is over, Salem’s agents are either dead or in prison and the witch herself is nowhere to be seen, and Ruby is back from her errand to the new Councilwoman’s house.  _ Finally _ Teams RWBY and JNPR can sit back and relax for a while, all together. 

Of course, there’s still the issue of what to do about Ozpin, now that he’s conveniently woken up just in time to insert himself into the center of attention. But he and Oscar are off with each other at the moment,  _ hopefully _ sorting out some of their issues. More likely they’re just visiting Pietro to get the ‘two identical canes’ situation dealt with while avoiding the topics of reincarnation and trust entirely.

“Hey, everyone.” Jaune’s voice catches the group’s attention as he walks in from another room. “Long time no see.”

Nora cocks her head to one side. “We’ve been with each other almost all morning?”

Her comment gets no response. Only, “There’s something I need to tell all of you. It’s important, and it needs to stay quiet.”

“Oh?” Yang raises an eyebrow. “What’s this about?”

“The new Fall Maiden.” 

Well. That certainly would be important. 

“I was there when Cinder died. We all know May is the new Winter Maiden, but that’s not the only power that passed on.”

“I never really thought about that,” Weiss muses. “My sister would have said something, I think, if it was her. And we know Penny could never keep quiet this long. So…”

But Jaune’s eyes are closed, gaze cast downward in silence. Then, as all look on, he raises his head again and orange flames spring from his eyes as an unmistakable sign of Fall. “It’s me. The new Fall Maiden is me.”

As the rest of two teams stare dumbfounded, Nora is the first to speak up.  _ “Damn, _ Jaune. You’re a Maiden now? That’s one  _ hell _ of a way to come out as trans!” She grins and jumps up from her seat, and offers a hearty high-five. “I’m so proud of you! We can be trans girl buddies!”

This gets her only a tentative, wimpy high-five and an extremely confused look. Weiss and Yang are the same way, exchanging puzzled glances at what sounded like a coming out. Only Ren, Ruby, and Blake have heard the news before and take Nora’s somewhat louder announcement in stride. 

“Uh, Nora, that’s great, I’m happy for you, but… I’m not trans. At least, I don’t think so. Am I, now?”

“Wait, but… if you’re a Maiden, then…”

“There’s another explanation,” Ren says quietly. “That’s not Jaune.”

The person inhabiting Jaune’s body points a finger at him. “Exactly!” She grins, even as a few of the assembled huntresses begin to reach for their weapons. “Say hello to Pyrrha Nikos, back from the dead!”

Red aura glows around the body that had once belonged to Jaune Arc alone. Pyrrha raises a hand, and the sword at her side lifts from its sheath and twirls in the air beneath her fingers. “It’s  _ so _ good to finally see you all again! Sorry if I scared anyone. I had to make an entrance, you understand.”

“Pyrrha? But… how?” Weiss relaxes her grip on her weapon, but remains suspicious for now. 

“And where’s Jaune?” Ruby asks. 

Pale yellow light flashes from Pyrrha’s eyes and the red aura surrounding her body changes to white, and Jaune’s sword clatters to the floor as the magnetism holding it stops. “I’m right here!” he calls, and bends down to pick it up again. “Pyrrha and I are just, uh… sharing. For a while. The plan is to ask Pietro for another robot body for her.”

Pinkish light flares from his eyes, and Pyrrha is back. “Though I’ve got to say, it’s kind of nice having everyone think I’m dead. No pedestal. No expectations.  _ And _ the power of the Fall Maiden stays extra secret.”

“But, if you’re like Ozpin and Oscar now…”

Pyrrha waves a hand dismissively. “We’ve got a while to figure things out on that front. Though I would  _ guess _ that we actually have forever, for the sole reason that neither of us is him.”

Yang raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s because of how I stayed alive this long. I never was  _ completely _ dead. Cinder, she… her semblance  _ did _ something to me…”

Ruby nods. “She kept you with her to call back and fight again later. Just like Amber.”

Pyrrha looks to Yang. “And your mother’s… friend? Girlfriend? Vernal, and an innocent civilian in Mistral, and who knows how many more before me. But I was carried around in Cinder’s body for years and I’m still me. I suspect it’s  _ only _ Ozpin who inevitably kills his headmates.”

“She has a point,” Ren says. “For all we know, multiple souls in one body could be a common occurrence – whether simply born that way, or through a traumatic splitting, or any other reason or none. Ozpin would just be the one unfortunate example we happened to meet first.”

“But regardless,” Pyrrha interrupts, “we don’t have to think about that for months, if at all. We should decide what we’re doing as a team first, Jaune and I as individuals later.”

Yellow light flashes again to signify Jaune taking over control. “My body doesn’t have Pyrrha’s muscle memory,” he says. “But she can use her semblance, Pietro can build her a new spear, and the shield at least is something we have in common. Team JNPR will have some things to figure out in our next few battles, but right now I’m just happy we’re all back together.”

“Agreed,” Nora says, and pulls Jaune and Pyrrha’s shared form into a tight hug. She holds out a hand to Ren, and he too joins in a moment later. 

“Salutations, friends!” a voice comes from the doorway. “Are we doing group hugs now? Can I join?”

“Hi, Penny!” Ruby stands, and the moment she spreads out her arms, Penny rockets into her embrace. 

Penny looks at the rest of Team RWBY. “It’s not a  _ group _ hug with only two,” she points out, and Weiss comes over to join in as well. “Much better.”

“Now,” she says after finally letting go, “I was told to tell you all… that you’re invited!”

Seven blank stares greet her words. “Invited to what?”

“Oh. Right. General Schnee is organizing a gala! In honor of the three new members of the Atlas Council, as well as Marrow in the position of leader of the Ace Ops! Also a retirement party for Clover, maybe? It’s a lot at once. But you’re invited!”

“Sounds great, Penny.” Ruby takes Penny’s hand and leads her to sit down on the common room couch. “But… when is it? And where?”

“At the Schnee Manor, of course! Seven PM, the day after tomorrow.”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “Why does  _ everything _ always happen  _ there?” _

Yang throws an arm around her and rests her head on Weiss’s shoulder. “Just where the nicest ballroom is, I guess. It’ll be fine without Jackass around.”

“I suppose. The house itself is just… saturated in memories of  _ him. _ Mother  _ has _ been improving a lot lately though, without him. And I’ll have all of you.”

“Well, just think of it this way,” Yang says. “It can’t possibly be as bad as the  _ last _ dinner party, right?”

* * *

Sometimes, you just have to trust the people you love. This usually applies when Ruby has some kind of crazy plan that  _ shouldn’t _ work but she somehow  _ makes _ work, like flying down the barrel of a massive cannon to shoot the dust inside at point-blank range. 

Summer was the same way. But Qrow doesn’t remember her ever handing him a slip of paper with an address on it and not giving him any details as to  _ why _ she wants him to go there. All Ruby had done was giggle and say someone there wanted to see him.

Which is… specific. For all he knows, this could be Ruby’s way of saying that she hates him just the same as Raven, and she’s luring him into an ambush. But he’s pretty sure it’s not that.

He’s pretty sure, if it  _ was _ that, that he’d be able to weasel his way out of it. Or more accurately,  _ crow _ his way out of it.

…Yang and Clover are rubbing off on him.

Whatever his misgivings, here he is, standing in front of the door to a first-floor apartment deep in the mine district of Mantle. There’s no clue to who lives here, just the number 13.

Well. Better get it over with, whatever it is Ruby’s sent him into. He knocks.

“I’m  _ coming, _ hold your fucking knickers,” someone calls from inside. The door is, eventually, opened to a woman with dark circles under her eyes, bobbed black hair, and a black tank top over a white, fuzzy sweater.

Strange fashion statement, but okay. She pulls it off.

“You’re…  _ not _ who I was expecting,” the woman gets out eventually. “Looking for Bones? He’s in  _ 23, _ just above me, can’t miss his door. He’s got skull and crossbones stickers all over it.”

“Um… no,” Qrow says. “I have no idea who that is.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Then who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“Qrow. My niece wrote down this address and told me to come here. She didn’t tell me  _ why _ and honestly, she might have meant a different address.”

“Maybe. Who’s your niece?”

“The name Ruby mean anything to you?”

Qrow really, really isn’t expecting much. Or anything at all. If he was expecting anything, it wouldn’t be recognition and a nod.  _ “Oh, _ you’re  _ Red’s _ uncle. You’ll be wanting Eudi. Get in here, then. Close the door behind you.”

As Qrow follows her in, he catches a glimpse of her wrists. Instead of there being a distinct sleeve there, the ‘sweater’ simply fades into skin. It’s not a sweater at all. It’s fur. She’s a faunus.

And suddenly, it clicks. “You’re Vox.”

The white-furred faunus snorts. “No,  _ I’m _ Little Duck.”

“Ducks don’t… have fur?”

“Who said I was a duck faunus?” The woman claiming to be the infamous vigilante Little Duck smiles and says, “No one will ever believe you.” Turning away from him, she cups her hands around her mouth and hollers in the direction of a bedroom, “Oi, Eudi! Get out here, Red’s uncle wants to talk to you.”

By the time ‘Eudi’ has emerged, Little Duck’s disappeared. Quite literally, in fact, but Qrow is going to try not to think too hard about how she did that. Probably her semblance or something, because  _ some _ people have cool semblances like invisibility, while others are just born unlucky.

“So you’re Uncle Qrow,” Eudico says, offering a hand. A hand covered in fur on the back, with toe beans, so maybe it’s more paw than hand actually. “I’m Eudico. You’ve got some good kids.”

“Thanks?” Qrow takes her hand and shakes it. “Not my doing. I just try to keep them from getting hurt. No one’s died  _ yet, _ so…”

“Keeping kids from getting hurt is  _ much _ easier said than done,” Eudico agrees with the sheer exhaustion of someone who’s been there, done that, and is going to keep doing that no matter how many times she has to. “Might be a little easier for you with this.”

She reaches behind her and pulls out a weapon. A sword, except it’s not just a sword. It’s a sword and a shotgun and, most importantly, a scythe. It’s… Harbinger. His weapon.

Qrow takes it immediately. “How did you—”

“Girlfriend and I, and a few others, went to hunt down Tyrian when it became obvious the military had mucked up their own attempt. Texted Red a picture last night to see if she knew whose it was.” Eudico hesitates. “I’m… not sure if Ticker counts as my girlfriend yet, actually. But she helped a lot.”

“No one got hurt?”

“Nothing but the smug look on Tyrian’s face. Although there’s a reason Ticker and I are staying here for a few weeks at least.”

“Yeah…” Qrow sighs. “I don’t expect Atlas to hold him for long either. But he’ll be more likely to come after me than you.”

“Part of why I want you to have that back. The other part…” Eudico’s expression goes from fairly neutral to distinctly sad. “Profit-Taker. You probably figured out what you were helping with once the news went live the next morning.”

_ Oh. _ Well, there goes any doubt at all that this is someone involved in Vox at the very least, if not the voice behind the transmissions herself.

“Bit hard not to. Glad to help. I’d do it again whether or not Ruby told me the details.”

“Thank you.” Eudico studies him quite seriously and adds, “You saved  _ all _ our lives. Without that shield generator down, we couldn’t have survived, never mind won.”

“Uh…” Qrow rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“If that’s nothing, I’m not a recovering alcoholic and neither is Willow Schnee. Seriously, though. Give yourself some credit.”

“Alright. A… well, not really  _ friend _ anymore, but someone I’m close to, has been working on getting me to do that.” Qrow grins slightly. “Actually, sounds like we might have more in common than I thought. Are you giving  _ yourself _ enough credit?”

* * *

The body of General James Ironwood was recovered from below Atlas early on the fourth day since the Grimm attack he was presumed dead in. Officially, he was killed fighting off the agents of Salem. Unofficially, several huntresses and huntsmen—and one robot not yet in possession of a huntsman license for this latest life—breathed a collective sigh of relief when they heard the news.

Ironwood  _ should _ have been found within hours of the search beginning, based on where he landed. He was not. Apparently, he survived the fall and crawled out of sight from an aerial view before, an unknown amount of time later, finally succumbing to his wounds.

If he was able to use  _ stairs _ as a weapon with his prosthetic arm, he should have been able to place a distress call from the same arm. And yet, he didn’t. Perhaps he chose not to. After all, would he have trusted  _ anyone _ at the end?

Unavoidable or not, it’s still horrible. Ruby can’t help but wonder if, maybe, things could have gone differently. Maybe if they’d landed elsewhere in Mantle, outside the mine district, and hadn’t gotten split up. Maybe they would have all made it to Atlas immediately. Maybe then, Ironwood wouldn’t have declared them all traitors.

On the other hand, maybe he still would have. Even if Ruby hadn’t actually been working with Salem—against Cinder! It was for a good reason—he might have still found  _ something. _

But he’s dead now, and people don’t just come back from the dead. Barring Pyrrha. And Ozpin. And probably Clover. But they’re all special cases. Pyrrha was never truly dead, because of Cinder’s semblance. Ozpin has literally been reincarnating for… well, Jinn didn’t give any specific dates but a  _ very long time. _ And Clover might not have been entirely dead either, or if he was, Biz’s semblance (Theo’s semblance? Does she have to call him that now?) turned out to be more powerful than even he had thought.

So, Ironwood isn’t coming back. Unless his semblance is secretly something that lets  _ him _ come back from the dead, maybe by setting a timer or something to revert his body back to what it was—and Ruby is  _ pretty sure _ it isn’t, because four days is a  _ really long time _ for someone to do that. Especially if he already had barely any aura left. 

It’s for the best. But she still feels guilty. And, bad as that feels, it’s probably a good thing. Bad people can excuse atrocities in the name of the greater good without a hint of guilt. So guilt’s good! It means she’s not like them.

It also means that Ruby’s at the memorial service for Ironwood, because how could she not be? Closed casket, full military honors because no one really wants to acknowledge the fact that he’d betrayed everyone, and his newest coworker on the Atlesian Council tapping the mic next to it for attention.

“So,” Councilwoman Robyn Hill says, “I’m going to start with the good, because there’s a lot less of that and there  _ are _ —well,  _ were _ —worse people. If you want to hear my rant about Jacques Schnee, drop by my house sometime and say hi. You’ll get it alright, but we’re here today about  _ James Ironwood. _ ”

Somehow, Ruby gets the feeling this isn’t really what a funeral is supposed to be like. But if Robyn knows that, and she probably does, she doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead she clears her throat and continues, “He did a lot with his life. As Headmaster of Atlas Academy, he made the application process  _ leagues _ more accessible, and he spent much of his career pushing for openly faunus students to be admitted, despite significant opposition from racist f—” Robyn surveys the crowd. “—fools. We’re stronger together, and James knew that. That’s why he took on the mantle, pun intended, of general as well as headmaster. It was a noble sentiment, if one doomed to failure, in the end.”

Robyn sighs, and shakes her head. “It started falling apart after the Fall of Beacon. The Kingdom of Atlas closed its borders after its robotic soldiers were allegedly hacked and began firing on civilians and huntsmen instead of the Grimm they were meant to. Even after that, James tried to protect us. Most recently, he spoke with me about the true reason for all the secrecy, and we told everyone. Well, everyone in Mantle and Atlas, anyway—rest of the world’ll be a bit harder, but we’ll get there. Together.”

Robyn tucks the flashcards she was holding into a back pocket, grins, and says, “Now we’ve got  _ that _ out of the way, I can quite happily say that for all the good James did, he was just too paranoid. He knew we were stronger together, yet when the time came to put it to the test, he couldn’t even trust himself. I won’t miss him. His death signifies the end of an era here, and the beginning of a new one based on  _ trust. _ Not just the loyalty he demanded to those above, but also honesty to the ones below. On kindness to  _ all,  _ as our two cities rejoin each other in friendship. James should be remembered for the good he did, but all the bad he did shouldn’t be glossed over because of it.”

With that, Robyn flips a switch to turn the microphone off and drops it. She does pick it up, after a moment, but by then Ruby’s heard enough. Robyn’s right. For everything good Ironwood did—he gave Yang a new arm!—he just couldn’t understand that not fighting was a viable option.

So Ruby leaves in a swirl of red cape and rose petals. She  _ does _ have something else to get ready for, after all.


	35. Part 3 Episode 10: Twilight and Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the ball to celebrate the new Headmaster and General, nobody checks the guest list. Team RWBY all dance with each other, as well as a few other friends. Two people conspicuously missing from the party make some future plans together, while two former enemies realize they have something in common.

The Schnee Manor. Once, Weiss had thought of it as home, although never with quite the fondness of anyone else she’d met describing their own. It was just the place where she happened to live, nothing more. What do you mean, normal people  _ don’t _ desperately want to leave their homes?

When she went to Beacon, she’d thought that might be the last time she’d ever set foot in the place. She was wrong. 

When she escaped after her first imprisonment at the hands of her father, she’d really thought that might be the last time she’d ever set foot in the place. She was wrong. 

When she and Yang escaped her second imprisonment there at the hands of her father, she’d desperately hoped that it would be the last time she’d ever set foot in the place. And somehow,  _ still _ , she was wrong. 

At least the most recent time, for her father’s memorial, she’d come by choice. It was strange, but even then Weiss could feel a change in the atmosphere of the place, as a great weight lifted never to return. 

And now? Here she is yet again, entering this place of her own volition, with her entire team by her side. They’re not  _ late _ to the ball, but hardly the first ones there either. The front doors stand wide open, welcoming all guests to enter. 

And there, in the center, draped in a beautiful blue-white gown and with a genuine smile on her face…

Her mother. Willow Schnee. Not only attending the event, not even just making a brief appearance then to vanish again, but greeting each new arrival as they come. 

Things really  _ have _ changed around here. For as long as Weiss had been able to identify her father as the source of her own unhappiness, she’d known he did the same to Mother. Without him, a lot of stress had lifted, but this? This improvement was clearly far more significant than anything Weiss had felt in herself. Was it really  _ all _ from Jacques’s demise? 

“Ah, Weiss and friends, welcome!” Willow greets the team cheerfully, and shakes their leader’s hand. “You must be Ruby. It’s so good to finally meet you.”

“Hi, Mom Schnee. Can I call you that? Yang does. Anyway, good to meet you too, even if we did kind of see each other once before already. You know, when you killed that poor innocent wine bottle.”

Willow’s eyes narrow in confusion for just a moment, then she nods. “Of course. I’m afraid I don’t recall much of that day myself. I wasn’t feeling well.” She glances behind the team, where another group of guests are coming up the stairs. “You should head on in and enjoy yourselves.”

Ruby leads the way, but Weiss lingers behind for a moment. “I’m glad you could make it,” she says quietly, and offers a smile of her own before following her team. 

Inside, it seems the most important guests of honor are already present: Marrow is here, alongside Theo or Bishop or The Business or whatever the new headmaster is going to call himself, and then, of course, Winter. But after a quick scan of the room… 

“Where are Team JNPR and Oscar?” Weiss asks. “I thought they’d be here before us. You know, since  _ someone _ took so long getting ready.”

“Hey, I haven’t worn these stupid lady stilts since the  _ Beacon _ ball,” Ruby protests. “I had to learn how to walk again!”

“I think I know what’s keeping them,” Blake says. “But in case I’m right, I don’t want to spoil it.”

They don’t have long to wait. A commotion near the door draws their attention, along with a smattering of laughter from the other guests and a few remarks the team all pretend not to hear. 

“Hey, Jaune. I love the dress!” Ruby waves her friends over, and they all gather near the side of the room. “Wait, this  _ is _ Jaune, right?”

“Yeah, it’s me. We figured it was tradition: Pyrrha didn’t get a date at Beacon, so now I wear dresses to formal events.” And what a beautiful dress it is, too. Mostly a brilliant deep red, with symmetrical streaks and twists of white down both sides, long enough to swirl with every movement. 

Nora claps him on the shoulder. “We made sure it was Jaune here. It doesn’t count if Pyrrha wears it for him.”

“But we’ll probably switch out for every other dance,” Jaune adds. “And don’t worry about Oscar, he said he… had somewhere else to be? Couldn’t get the details, but he’s fine.”

Still snickering, Ruby turns to face the front of the room. “Looks like we’re about to start,” she comments. 

But as Winter steps up to the microphone and much of the room quiets, a few final voices from the door catch Ruby’s attention. “Welcome,” Willow says in the distance. “So many faces I haven’t met here. What’s your name?”

“Zai Lin, huntress,” comes the response. “I’m an associate of your daughter’s team. I’ve worked with their leader in the field.”

Oh no. That voice sounds like…

Salem. What is  _ she _ doing here? 

Ruby slips away from the others and makes her way back to the door, just in time to grab Salem by the arm as she enters and pull her to the side. “What do you think you’re doing, showing up here?” she hisses. 

“Attending the party, same as you?” Salem offers with her best innocent look. 

She does look stunning, with her high-necked sleeveless top covered in intricate floral patterns in fuchsia and black, merging seamlessly into a long ombre skirt with black at the waist and the same vibrant pink below. The red veins all down her arms and the sides of her face are concealed, giving her a more fully human look, and she wears a golden diadem set with four gems in a diamond shape in the center of her forehead – the one on her left seems to glow with blue from within, while the other three remain dark. 

And if that was all, she wouldn’t be out of place at all in a high-class ball like this. But this is  _ Salem. _ A quick glance around the room tells Ruby there are at least a dozen people in attendance who have declared her their sworn enemy. But looking like this, would they even know it? 

“I mean, what are you planning here?” Ruby glances up to the front as Winter begins her introduction, but remains focused on her own private conversation in the corner. 

“Well, I don’t know about you and your friends, but I was  _ planning _ to have a good time.” Salem shrugs. “One thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks here is that I just don’t get out of my castle often enough. It’s so  _ boring _ at home. And with the lamp in hand, I think I can afford to relax and take a night off every now and then.”

“The lamp… Ozpin is  _ looking _ for you, you know. He wants it back. I hope you left it somewhere safe.”

“Left it?” Salem smiles. “You’re looking right at it.” As Ruby’s eyes narrow, Salem raises one finger to point up at the softly glowing blue gem resting over her forehead. “Besides, I happen to know he’s out scouring Mantle right now with locator spells. Right here is the perfect spot he’d  _ never _ look.”

Up at the front, Winter’s initial short speech finishes and she steps down from the podium. A moment later, music kicks on, and Salem takes Ruby by the hand. “Now, I realize you weren’t raised nobility so you may not know, but it simply  _ isn’t done _ to grab a party guest the moment she steps in and start questioning her in a corner. So, to save face for both of us, I’m going to have to insist we take the first dance.”

Ruby stumbles once on her high heels as she’s dragged into the central dance floor, but luckily stays standing. She shoots a helpless look over toward her team, but doesn’t catch anyone’s eye as they’re all beginning to pair off as well. 

Still, as uncomfortable as both her shoes and emotions presently are, a dance  _ is _ a rather convenient way to continue speaking privately. 

“Are you  _ really _ just here for the party?” Ruby asks. “It just seems… risky, you know? I wouldn’t expect that from you.”

“And in work, I wouldn’t. I plan every contingency. But this is just for fun, and where’s the fun in something known in advance? My only goal here is to get a dance with all five Council members without any of them realizing who I am. Theo may be difficult, but even he hasn’t seen me in person before, I don’t think.”

“But the Ace Ops have, and they’re here.”

“Ah, but they saw my  _ normal _ look, in all black with my hair up. Letting it down was enough to fool you at our first meeting. It will work again.”

“If you say so.” Ruby still seems skeptical, but no one has raised the alarm yet. Maybe no one will. 

Salem only smiles. “What are they going to do, evacuate the entire event halfway through? My fake ID can stand up to scrutiny. Anyone who tries to call me out will only make a fool of themselves.”

She looks over Ruby’s shoulder, and begins guiding her back toward the edge of the dance floor. “Sleet’s alone. I think it’s time for my first mark.”

* * *

“So, what’s on the agenda for tonight?” Sienna Khan leans back in her chair and rests her feet on the table. 

“Dunno,” Cressa says, sitting across from her in the dim hideout. She takes a sip of her drink, and shrugs. “We had a few things planned, but with all the chaos recently I don’t know if they can all go ahead. White Fang might have to take a break and see how things work out.”

Sienna nods. “Of course. A lot’s happened recently. At least with Tyrian Callows out of the way, it should quiet down.’

Cressa snorts at the mention of Tyrian. “Disgrace to the cause, that one. Giving us all a bad name.”

“Exactly. You and Vox did a good job bringing him in.”

“Thank you. Though, I’ve got to ask, why’d you miss it? Had something else going on?”

Sienna hesitates a moment, then sets down her own glass and speaks carefully. “For some time now I’ve been… setting things up, so to speak, for a new kind of operation. I can’t talk details, I’m sorry. Not to anyone, not yet. But if it works, we could transform Atlas from the worst kingdom for faunus rights into the best, nearly overnight.”

Cressa gives her an impressed look. “Now that’s something I’d like to see. You got a timeframe?”

“Four and a half months, maximum. I know my time limit down to the day.” Sienna smiles and gazes off into the distance. “Beyond that it won’t be effective, but I might just go through with it anyway… for my own sake.”

“This something to do with Vox?”

“Not at all. But they’ve done good work. Glad I finally get the chance to meet them, some of the original group too. Atlas Academy’s going to be an interesting place now with The Business in charge.”

“I bet.” Cressa takes another sip of her champagne. “Anything you  _ can _ tell us? You thinking of getting into politics or something?”

Sienna laughs. “Not quite. But not  _ too _ far off. Let’s just say… Our dear old Jacques Gelé had exactly one good idea in his life, and I’m going to steal it. Leave it at that.”

“Well now I  _ am _ curious.” Cressa gives her a sly look with her one eye. “You  _ sure _ that’s all you can say for now?”

Sienna shrugs, and takes her feet off the table. “Well,” she says, “there is  _ one _ thing, somewhat related, that I might as well do now.” 

She stands up, and motions for Cressa to do the same as she walks around the other side of the table. Once they’re standing side by side, Sienna reaches up to undo the clasp over her chest that holds her red cape, and drapes it loose over one arm. 

“Whether my current intent succeeds or not, I doubt I can devote all my waking time to the White Fang from now on. In addition, I’m believed to be dead in at least two kingdoms – though I suppose I’ll have to do something about that eventually. Regardless…”

Sienna steps behind Cressa and wraps the cape over her shoulders, and fastens it into place. “Cressa Tal, I hereby name you High Leader of the White Fang, and all of its operations across Remnant.”

“Wait, what?” Cressa pulls away and turns to face Sienna again, and the cape swirls behind her. “You’re stepping down?”

“I just did… High Leader.” Sienna claps her successor on the shoulder and returns to take a seat again. “Rebuilding the White Fang from the Atlas branch is half of why I came here. Along with making sure Adam got what he deserved for murdering me. And the reason I picked Atlas is because I had faith in  _ your _ leadership, Cressa. Now that I’ve picked up a third mission, I see nothing more fitting than to make that faith official.”

“But… You can’t just  _ retire! _ I’m eight years older than you, I should get to do that first!” Cressa throws up her hands helplessly. “You  _ swear _ you’re not, like, taking over Vox Faunus instead, or something?”

“Nope! Can’t. Their transmissions rely on their leader’s semblance.” Sienna picks up the glass she’d left earlier and drains the rest in a single swig. “Don’t worry, you’ll see the plan soon enough. I’ll make sure all of you here get invitations.”

“…Invitations? To  _ what?” _

* * *

Atlas Academy has always prided itself on accepting only the best. As students, and as faculty. That’s what made it the world leader in producing huntsmen and huntresses, after all. And for the past five years, Simon Irmis has prided himself personally on carrying out that mission to the fullest. 

His semblance, after all, is never wrong. The worst that can happen is it getting a little confused, like when that huntsman Branwen came in here to watch the young Pine take his entrance exam. An always-on ability to spread bad luck… is that a strength or a weakness? Simon’s semblance wanted to call it both. 

But the boy standing before him now is much more straightforward. Schnee number three. Same inherent strengths and weaknesses as his eldest sister, aura and semblance are unlocked, slightly more maneuverable due to shorter stature but with slower reflexes to adjust, didn’t bring a weapon with him. 

Really, no weapon? Not even some family heirloom from Great War times? Irmis  _ knows _ this boy isn’t good at hand to hand combat. 

“Whitley Schnee,” Irmis booms, standing just a little too close, as he always does. “This will be your entrance examination for Atlas Academy. Are you aware of the procedures?”

“Oscar has told me about it,” Whitley answers. Unlike most, he doesn’t cower when Irmis leans into his personal space. Interesting. He merely stands with his hands clasped behind his back and stares up with a practiced haughty defiance. 

“Not too much, I hope,” Irmis says, staring down the other boy next to his current candidate. “It wouldn’t do to taint the experiment.”

“Um, no, of course not, Professor Irmis,” Oscar stammers. 

Lying is not one of this boy’s strengths. Strange. Last time he was here, Irmis had gotten the sense he was a master of it. 

“I know how the test is meant to go,” Whitley states, to be clear. “Eight rounds of destroying Grimm. Without  _ any _ robots or even servants to assist. Truly barbaric.”

“If you don’t wish to be here, you may leave at any time,” Irmis tells him. 

Whitley looks to his friend, and Oscar gives him a thumbs-up. “You can do this. Show him what you’ve got.”

“Of course.” Whitley finally unclasps his hands and calls up a tiny glyph in one palm. “It’s not like I could just go home anyway, seeing as the whole place has been taken over for some gala for the new headmaster.”

“Isn’t your sister the new General?” Oscar asks. “Are you sure it’s okay for you to not be there?”

“My  _ family _ will neither notice nor care.” Whitley steps up to the edge of the hard-light projection area, then turns back to face Irmis. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“As you wish,” Irmis announces. “Step into the central marked region when ready.” He brings out a pen from his pocket and readies his clipboard to take notes. The boy has  _ potential _ , certainly, but is he ready at this very moment? That remains to be seen. 

Whitley steps forward, and the moment both feet land inside the marked square, the test begins. Hard-light walls rise around him, filling in with hard-light trees and hard-light bushes… and hard-light beowolves. 

Whitley turns in a circle, counting the six Grimm around him. Irmis makes a note. Patient? Calm under pressure? Or simply apathetic? The experiment will tell. 

The first one bounds closer and takes a swipe at him. Whitley doesn’t move. He merely raises a hand, and a glyph springs up in the beowulf's path, stopping it short before then launching it backwards into the woods. Interesting. 

Other beowolves follow suit, but none can lay a claw on him. At least he can protect himself, but that’s not alone enough to be a huntsman. That requires protecting  _ others. _ Honestly, why isn’t there a portion of the exam where applicants have to guard a civilian from all the Grimm around them? Irmis makes a note to bring that up with Headmaster Berzins later. 

A cheer from Oscar brings his attention back to the fight. One of the beowulves is dead. Shoved like the rest, and impaled on a low branch. And now that Whitley has the idea, he focuses on the next closest and repeats. 

_ Not particularly mobile in combat, _ Irmis writes.  _ Utilizes the environment to assist. _

All of them are down except the alpha. Its hardened spines protect it from the same sharp spike of wood that eliminated its pack, and the timer is counting down. Whitley turns away its swipes, and when it roars – another glyph appears vertically between its teeth. A flick of Whitley’s fingers makes it expand rapidly, tearing the beast’s head apart from within. 

Now that’s a move he’d  _ never _ seen Winter do. Her military finesse works wonders in combat against fellow humans, but against the Grimm, that brutal touch delivered without hesitation may be just what an aspiring young huntsman needs. Not that he would use those exact words to Whitley’s face, of course. 

Fifteen seconds of spare time to rest, and then the buzzer for the second round. Two ursai. Has this boy ever  _ seen _ ursai before? Has he ever left the city of Atlas? But familiar or not, they don’t seem to faze him at all. Whitley glances around him once more, and calmly steps back into the central clearing in the hard-light trees. 

“You can do this, Whitley!” Oscar again. Cheering as he runs around the perimeter of the arena. Irmis should have made him wait in the observation booth above. 

One of the ursai stands up on his hind legs and roars. Whitley immediately pushes it over onto its back. The Grimm isn’t hurt, but its spines do stick into the ground and keep it immobilized for a moment. If only the boy had brought a weapon, anything at all, he could finish it off. 

What is he  _ doing? _ Centering a glyph around a tree? 

No… two glyphs, sandwiched together. Which he then slides against each other, slicing through the hard-light trunk like butter. A third glyph gives the tree a push, and it drops flat across both ursai as Whitley himself takes a hurried step out of the way. 

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of the round. He has some time to rest before the next pair. 

“That wouldn’t work on a real tree,” Irmis yells to him. “Or anything more solid than hard-light dust!”

“I destroyed my enemies, as was required,” Whitley responds. There’s a hint of a real emotion on his face – unusual, for him. Is it a smile? Or his father’s sneer? 

No matter.  _ Inventive, _ Irmis writes.  _ But needs field experience. And a weapon. _

And he’s going straight into the third round. His aura is still high, after all. Heavy use of that Schnee semblance has been depleting it, but he hasn’t actually taken an enemy attack yet. 

Time for the lancer swarm. The false ground rises up into islands separated by illusory water, and Whitley is surrounded by giant buzzing insects that can throw their stingers fifteen feet. 

But most importantly to the potential huntsman in the arena, they’re smaller than his usual size of glyph. And that means he can squash them one by one between a pair of glowing snowflakes. 

_ Very inventive, _ Irmis notes on his clipboard.  _ Does a lot with minimal tools. Maybe not the complete pushover I expected.  _

Whitley is… he really  _ is, _ he’s  _ smiling. _ It looks weird on him. Even as a few stingers do clip his aura and he retaliates, he actually seems to be  _ enjoying _ this barbaric practice of fighting without robots or hired bodyguards. His friend’s encouragement from the sidelines is certainly helping as well. Perhaps that’s fueling him more than the fighting itself. More experimentation will be needed. 

Still, he’s finished another round with time to spare. Now for a Grimm he almost certainly has never seen, not around here: the sea feilong. A very small one, as far as feilongs go, but still. 

It emerges from the depths and slithers across the neon blue sand, and Whitley  _ leaps _ out of the way. Finally, something gets him to move more than a few steps or a twist of his body at a time. But he doesn’t go for the pair of palm trees that Oscar did, to try to get it stuck. 

The next time the feilong approaches, he stands his ground and calls up a glyph directly in its path. The serpent smashes headlong into it, deforming the glyph somewhat, but it stops. Four more shining snowflakes appear around its head and batter it back and forth between them. 

Irmis makes another note.  _ Very angry about something but won’t show it. Needs therapy. Oscar Pine likely first and only friend. _

Despite the beating Whitley gave it, the sea feilong is not yet dead. Only thirty seconds remain on the clock for this round, so he’ll have to come up with  _ something _ else. 

And yet, he’s ignoring the actual Grimm itself in favor of staring into the hard-light water. Whitley extends a hand downward, and clenches it into a fist. Nothing happens, at first. But then he yanks his fist back up and sparks fly from the training room floor, beneath all the water and sand projected above. 

Broken electrics from a violently opened panel discharge into the water, fake as it is, and the sea feilong evaporates into smoke. Let it never be said that Atlas Academy’s simulations are not realistic. But still… 

“Disabling the testing equipment does not constitute a pass!” Irmis bellows. “Not unless you can do the same to reality itself when faced with an actual Grimm!”

_ Thinks outside the box, quite literally, _ he writes.  _ Potential team leader material. _

“How am I doing so far?” Whitley asks. He stands at the arena’s edge, Oscar beaming at him from just on the other side of the line. 

“Four rounds is typically considered the minimum for a huntsman candidate. Do not stop now.”

Whitley crosses his arms over his chest and gives a practiced haughty look. “Whatever comes next, I’m certain I can handle it.”

“Very well then. Begin when you are ready.”

Whitley steps back into the lit square in the center, and the environment changes to rocky tundra. At the far end, a flock of small birds crowds together, hopping and fluttering their wings. 

“Fratterkies…” Unlike his friend at the time, Whitley recognizes them. He steps away and finds a large section of flat ground. 

He closes his eyes, and points one finger down in front of him. A glyph appears, larger than most, and specks of blue-white aura rise from its surface. Flashes of a more saturated blue crackle over the glyph as well, briefly forming an incomplete outline of the feilong from Round 4, then shatter. 

Was he trying to summon a fallen enemy that never truly existed in the first place? Either he doesn’t  _ know _ the limits of his family semblance, or he simply doesn’t  _ care. _ In either case, it’s impressive he managed as much as he did, on a task doomed to failure from the start. 

But that’s enough time wasted. With a steely frown, he strides forward again and employs the same strategy that worked so well against the lancers. 

It works significantly less well against fratterkies. For one thing, they’re faster, and they don’t stay still to throw a stinger. And then there’s simply the advantage of numbers. The simulation includes only a very small flock, between fifteen and twenty depending on an applicant’s performance in the earlier rounds, but even this quickly becomes overwhelming. 

Whitley takes out a grand total of six before getting swarmed with snapping beaks and beating wings, and he turns to simply pushing the beasts away in a futile attempt to stave off the end. He drops to his knees, and within seconds the aura meter reports his strength falling below the fifteen percent threshold. 

The buzzer sounds, and the remaining fratterkies disappear as the simulation is cut off. 

“This examination is over,” Irmis announces, striding forward to stare Whitley down from uncomfortably close. 

“You did great, Whitley,” Oscar cheers. “That was amazing! I’ve never seen Weiss do that kind of fighting with only glyphs!”

“Do I pass or not?” Whitley taps a foot impatiently. “My application was sent in by mistake, you know. I only came tonight because Oscar wanted me to.”

Irmis sustains his piercing stare a moment longer before he speaks. “Ending in the fifth round is considered borderline performance,” he says. “However, reaching that point without attending a junior academy, and especially  _ without a weapon, _ is more impressive.” 

Beside the stony-faced Whitley, Oscar begins to smile. 

“In addition, both of your sisters have become successful huntresses and you share their potential. From this moment forth, you are officially a student of Atlas Academy. Congratulations, Whitley Schnee. You pass.”

Oscar pumps a fist in the air, as Whitley himself merely looks baffled at the result. He passed? An exam he never studied for, in a field he regards with nothing but contempt? And he  _ passed? _

Atlas – Irmis – somebody –  _ wants _ him? 

Irmis pulls out his scroll and taps a few buttons. “If you’ll stay just a moment, I believe I can tell you something more,” he says, at a reasonable person’s volume for once. “Yes, yes, that should do nicely…”

He stows the scroll again and announces, “I will be recommending the creation of a Team WOTR, composed of Whitley Schnee, Oscar Pine, Thursby Crane, and Roky Pobber. This decision is not final, but it is likely. I would recommend getting to know your future teammates – and finding a weapon that suits you.”

Irmis brushes past the pair of students to examine the broken section of the floor, still throwing sparks. “You are dismissed,” he yells without turning around. “I would also recommend leaving before I decide you should help fix my training room.”

* * *

This is very much  _ not _ Yang’s ideal kind of party. But it still affords her an opportunity to relax, have some fancy snacks – alright, fine,  _ hors d'oeuvres, _ though ‘fancy snacks’ is far more fitting a name – and most importantly, dance with her girlfriends. Even if the place  _ could _ be livened up a bit with some colored lights and vastly different music. 

Her first dance had been with Blake, of course. Just like at Beacon, though at least now they’ve both admitted their feelings for one another. Ruby had gone with someone Yang’s pretty sure is just a lightly disguised Salem, leaving Weiss to pair off with Pyrrha. 

And as the music turned, her team realigned to send Yang with Weiss and Ruby with Blake. No complaints there; even if those pairs were not anyone’s first crush within the team, they love each other now just the same. Following that, Weiss and Blake paired off, leaving Yang to be with… 

Well, not Ruby, apparently. Not that she’d object to it, whether they’re like every other pair within the team or not, but it seems Ruby is already waving Penny over for the next dance. 

Yang catches her sister’s eye just before the next song starts, but it’s already too late. Ruby shrugs apologetically at Yang’s lack of a partner, then takes Penny’s hand in one of her own as she points back behind Yang. 

Yang turns, expecting to see a member of Team JNPR or maybe Oscar showing up late, but she’s greeted by a different sight entirely. It’s Salem. Smiling. With a hand out, ready to take her own. 

Ozpin may not have admitted it, but his distant past self had  _ very _ good taste in women. 

Gay panic aside, Yang really  _ should _ raise the alarm and tell the new leaders of Atlas that their greatest enemy is right here. But she doesn’t. She trusts in her team leader, takes the hand that’s offered to her, and follows Salem into a dance. 

“Yang, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice getting to meet my granddaughter like this… when we’re  _ not _ on the brink of a magic firefight.”

“Your… what?”

“You’re the daughter of the Spring Maiden, are you not?” Salem smiles, and gives a nod to Councilwoman Camilla as the pair passes by. “Not that it implies any relation  _ now, _ mind you,” she continues once they’re out of earshot. “But I’m not here about magic. This is just a fun night off, for both sides. And might I say, you look lovely in that dress.”

Yang’s cheeks flush red and she stammers out a “You too!” It comes out more of a question than she’d have liked, but it’s certainly true. “How do you make yours do that?” she asks, tilting her head down at the bottom of Salem’s own dress. “With the trail of black in the air after each swirl like that?”

Salem gives her a knowing smile. “Dust sewn into the fabric. Special kind only found back home, which blots out light in the area when activated. The younger brother’s doing, I’m sure. It  _ was _ his home first.”

“We saw. It’s so… barren.”

“It is… but the pink skies really make up for the rest. This color, all the time.” Salem takes her hand out of Yang’s for a moment to gesture at her brilliant fuchsia dress. “I think it has to do with evaporated Grimm ichor. But regardless of why, it’s beautiful. You could see it in person someday, if you like.”

Before Yang can reply, the music begins winding down and Salem guides her out of the center of the ballroom. They let go of each others’ hands, only for Salem to suddenly stumble and grab Yang’s shoulder for support. A startled apology from behind her tells Yang what happened: in the jumble of couples finishing their last dance and moving aside, someone had stepped on the bottom of Salem’s long dress. 

And now the witch is holding the two sides of a long tear, desperate to conceal the red-veined legs that she hadn’t bothered to cover in illusions or makeup. Something like that would blow her cover. 

With a flick of her fingers, one of the chandeliers on the far side of the ballroom sparks and several of its bulbs shatter and go dark. As everyone looks over there in alarm, another quick pass of magic knits the fabric back together again as if nothing had ever happened. 

“Sorry about that,” she mutters to Yang. “I needed the distraction. But look!” She turns to show off the perfectly repaired side of her dress. “I can fix things without ever having to thread a needle.”

“Convenient,” Yang admits, “but Qrow’s going to be beating himself up over that for a while.” She points across the room at where her uncle is already apologizing to Winter Schnee for spreading bad luck. “Though he’s been taking it pretty well that my team’s… neutral… ish, now, so I’ll probably tell him what really happened after the party’s over.”

As Winter takes the stage once again, Yang wanders back over to her team, and Salem follows. Understandable since she certainly has no one else here to hang out with, but more than a little awkward nonetheless. 

“Hello, everyone,” Salem says, waving to Team JNPR as they wander closer as well. “I’d introduce myself properly, but I’m sure you understand why I can’t do that here.”

Team JNPR’s eyes widen practically in unison at the first sight of their enemy, though whether from surprise, fear, or Yang’s own feeling of sudden gay, she can’t exactly tell. 

“Thank you all for coming and for a wonderful evening,” Winter announces from the front. “We are gathered here tonight in celebration of our great kingdom’s new leadership, in which I am honored to participate as the new General of the armed forces. Despite the tragic events of the past few weeks and the loss of General Ironwood, Atlas continues to stand strong in the face of adversity.”

The face of adversity, at the current moment, is smiling and looking fondly at Ruby. 

“In addition to myself, I am proud to announce Theodore Berzins as Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and his second, Little Duck!” 

Winter steps away from the podium and ushers Biz up in her place, with LD not far behind. Little Duck is wearing the same thing she always does, a deep blue cloak and hood with a bandanna over the bottom half of her face. Even at an event like this, she won’t show any more than that – and given what she told Yang and Weiss upon their rescue, it seems the reason for that is some kind of prior history with Winter. 

They seem to be friendly toward each other, though. Whether that might change if the hood came off, Yang doesn’t dare speculate. 

Biz’s speech is short and to the point, and never touches on the subject of why he’s not at Shade Academy or how he plans to run both at once. If anyone knows him and wants to ask, they can do so after the event. 

“So how’d it go?” Ruby asks quietly, sidling over next to Salem. 

“Mission was a perfect success,” comes the reply. “The answer to my question, it turns out, is all of them. I can dance with all five Council members and not a single person recognizes me. Except for your teams. Well done.”

“Wow. I guess that disguise really does work.”

“Robyn was suspicious, I think. She asked me my name after we were already holding hands. I told her ‘you may call me Zai Lin’ and that much, at least, was true. She didn’t say anything about it afterward, though.”

LD’s speech is equally short and Yang tunes out most of it, though she does catch the words “As they say: be gay, do crime. Is it really still crime to wipe out people’s student loans if I’m the assistant headmistress?”

Marrow steps up after her to formally accept the nomination as leader of the Ace Operatives, and then the announcements are over. 

Winter steps back up for one closing remark. “Thank you all for coming. I see many familiar faces here tonight, and for those I don’t know, feel free to stay and get to know your new leaders. No matter what comes, Atlas will continue to endure, as it always has. Thank you.”

With the speech concluded, Jaune rubs his eyes to conceal a pink flash, stands a little straighter, and turns to demand answers of ‘Zai Lin.’ Unfortunately for Pyrrha, she’s already gone.

* * *

Marrow never quite understood how Clover could go to bed so early, never mind make it through the day without (much) caffeine. It’s been a few days since Clover resigned and Marrow,  _ somehow, _ wound up in charge of the Ace Ops himself. Hare’s had a few days to cool off and accept that Winter was essentially bullied into the decision. Elm and Vine were, strangely, behind him from the start.

It’s only been a few days and  _ already _ Marrow has been finding himself turning in for the night earlier and earlier. The caffeine thing is probably just his old friend and (now former) teammate being weird, but the needing more sleep thing?

Now, Marrow understands that  _ far _ too well. Unfortunately, bringing that up to a different former teammate only gets a dry laugh.

“Marrow, you haven’t been getting enough sleep since the day I met you,” Simon says at a normal volume—quiet for him, but still. “I’m not a betting man, but I  _ would _ bet that you hadn’t long before we were ever on a team together.”

Visibly pouting, Marrow glares at him.

“Tail,” Simon says altogether too cheerfully.

“I hate you,” Marrow says after grabbing his traitorous—well,  _ trait. _ “How does your semblance even see how much sleep I got last night?”

“Strengths and weaknesses. Sleep deprivation, particularly  _ chronic _ sleep deprivation, is undeniably a weakness.”

“Right. And what else can you see?”

“That you don’t already know about?” Simon shrugs. “Well, you need to rely less on your semblance, but I  _ know _ you know that.”

Marrow sighs. “Yep. That’s how—”

“I saw the tapes. What I would give to have those four girls at Atlas…”

He sounds distinctly approving, and not of Marrow. Understandable. Still, Marrow clears his throat awkwardly and says, “You know, I’m  _ really _ surprised to see you here at all. I thought you liked parties even less than Nora.”

“Oh, I do. Believe me, I do  _ not _ want to be here, and as soon as I’ve delivered something to the newest faculty member of the Academy, I won’t be. Just have to  _ find _ him first.” Simon pauses briefly, peering around a pair of dancing huntresses that aren’t anyone he recognizes. “Besides, I have other obligations to attend to. The latest applicant to Atlas made  _ quite _ the mess of my room.”

“That’s what took you so long to get here?”

Simon nods. “That and I didn’t particularly  _ want _ to be here, but I was able to beat back procrastination by reminding it that this might be the best opportunity I have to meet Berzins  _ before _ he’s started changing anything.”

“Makes sense,” Marrow says. It doesn’t. “Did your student make it in?”

“With that kind of ingenuity?  _ Obviously. _ Not that I told him that, of course.”

“Of course. Never change, Si. Never change.”

“I never had any intention of doing so—ah,  _ there you are.” _ Simon produces a thick binder from… somewhere… and marches away. Marrow follows him, for lack of anything better to do. He might leave when Simon does, if not a little later.

He is  _ not _ going to think about where Simon was keeping said binder. That being said, his own faunus trait was likely involved in one way or another.

The crowd parts for Simon, partially because of how unreasonably tall he is and partially because his reputation precedes him. Marrow doubts they have any idea that he’s not human just like the Atlesian elite. He makes no secret of it when asked, but also, who is going to ask  _ him? _

The crowd does not stay parted for Marrow. After several hurried  _ excuse me _ s and  _ coming through _ s, he catches up to Simon just in time to hear him say, “I look forward to making the next school year a successful one.”

With that, he turns on his heel and goes directly for the exit, nodding to Marrow as he passes him.

Professor Theodore Berzins is holding the binder and looking after Simon with a vaguely confused expression on his face. He schools his face into neutrality and tucks the binder under his arm to greet Marrow.

“People tend to have that reaction to him.” Marrow shrugs, and offers a hand. “I’m Marrow Amin. But you probably knew that already. Sorry about Simon, he’s… intense.”

“I gathered that.” Berzins takes it. He’s got a firm grip before he lets go. “Does he  _ always _ give binders full of improvements he’d like made to people when he meets them?”

“As far as I know? No. If I had to guess, most of those are things the Ge—Ironwood never implemented.”

Berzins snorts. “Perhaps I should look at this more closely, then. So… you’re the new leader of the Ace Operatives?”

“And you’re the new headmaster of Atlas Academy. And the… former headmaster of Shade?”

“Formerly.”

Something dark and bitter crosses his expression at that, but whatever it is, Berzins doesn’t voice it. Marrow decides to drop the matter. “So—”

“A moment,” Berzins says. “My arm is getting tired. Your friend’s binder is even heavier than it looks, and it  _ looks _ heavy enough.”

He turns to set down the binder. That’s all that Marrow’s brain registers because, hanging down from the back of his dress pants, is a  _ tail. _ Grey fur streaked with white, not unlike its owner’s hair, and unmistakably canine. Unmistakably a  _ faunus. _

Theodore Berzins, former headmaster of Shade Academy, current headmaster of Atlas Academy, is a  _ faunus. _

Berzins clears his throat, and Marrow snaps back to reality. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have been staring at approximately the position of something else entirely when Berzins turned back around. He flushes red. Words and their meanings completely desert him.

“Uh,” Marrow says intelligently. For lack of anything better, he turns a little and holds his own, green-grey tail out to the side.

Berzins nods in understanding. “I didn’t realize you had a tail.”

“I—didn’t realize you were a  _ faunus,” _ Marrow blurts.

_ Like me, _ he manages to stop himself before saying. His tail has other ideas, determined to show his excitement anyway. 

“Neither have a majority of the people here tonight,” Berzins says amusedly. “Well. It  _ is _ for the best that the academy and the military were separated once again, but I certainly wouldn’t mind working together in the future, either.” Is that… is that a hint of wagging tail behind him as well? 

“Neither would I, sir. It’s good to meet you.”

After Marrow makes his own escape from the party, he texts Simon:  _ You didn’t tell me he had the same tail! _

Simon’s response takes so long to come that for a few minutes, Marrow is worried that he’s gotten a new scroll number.

_ I didn’t have to. _


	36. Part 3 Episode 11: The Enemy's Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ruby tells one convincing lie. Her team decides on future plans, while discussing with both Ozpin and Salem. Ruby gets a delivery. Even as things finally quiet down, new problems are already bubbling to the surface both within Atlas and outside. Eudico looks back over everything that’s changed.

It’s been an exhausting few days. It’s been an exhausting few  _ months, _ really, ever since they all left Haven Academy to come to Atlas. How different everything was back then. How little they all knew. 

How much they all trusted Ozpin, back then, before having the slightest clue just how deep the lies really went. 

“All I am saying is that if Salem has truly  _ escaped _ with the lamp, then we should devote our efforts to protecting the remaining Relics. If we take the Winter Maiden far from Atlas, then the staff is secure. We can go back to Vale, help their rebuilding efforts and let them know Amity is coming online soon, and prepare them for the next assault.”

Ozpin paces around the small dorm room as he speaks. Team RWBY sit together on one bed, Team JNPR and Oscar on the next, while Qrow leans against the side wall with his scroll out. They’ve been listening to Ozpin for some time now, getting nowhere, as nobody can quite seem to agree on who leads the group anymore. 

“I don’t think May is going to want to leave Atlas,” Nora pipes up. “She wouldn’t leave her group, and they’re all pretty serious about fighting for Mantle in particular.”

“But it should be fine,” Ruby says. “I don’t think the staff is in any danger anymore. Salem wouldn’t drop Atlas. And that means she can’t use the staff, so there’s no need to steal it since she already has a different one.”

“Your faith in everyone’s fundamental goodness is admirable, Ruby, but in the case of Salem it simply does not apply.” Ozpin pauses in his pacing and turns to face her. “She will say or do  _ anything _ she has to, to steal the Relics.”

“Yeah, and right now what she has to do is stop staging massive Grimm attacks for the rest of my lifetime, if she doesn’t want us all coming to take the lamp back. I’d say that’s a pretty good thing, wouldn’t you?”

Her teammates nod, but Ozpin only frowns and looks away. “All you’ve done is make ‘the rest of your lifetime’ a lot shorter than it would have been. If she even keeps that promise at all.”

“Two of her agents are dead and one is in jail,” Yang speaks up. “She’s going to have to pull back for a while anyway. Unless she’s got more people than just them and Hazel?”

“She certainly seems intent on recruiting eight young huntsmen and huntresses who  _ really should know better.” _ Ozpin unhooks the cane from his belt – his original one, now, while Oscar holds the replica – but does not extend it. Maybe he too merely finds it calming to hold again. “Please, we need to go to Vale and ensure the safety of the Relic of Choice.”

Blake’s ears fold back. “But that doesn’t make sense. If you want to take May away from Atlas, doesn’t that mean we should also keep Pyrrha away from Vale?”

Ozpin freezes for a second, then turns to her with a light sigh and a practiced smile. “The truth is, I want Pyrrha to open the vault. To make sure the Relic is still inside. We’ve been away a long time, and Cinder could have returned to take the crown for herself. I want to be sure we have only  _ one _ Relic to reclaim, and not two.”

“That’s the truth, huh?” Yang raises one eyebrow. “You sure? Nothing else? You don’t want to  _ use _ the crown, for whatever the hell it does?”

“If it’s still there, we may have to. It could help us take the lamp back. But I would prefer not to need its power.”

Ruby gets out her scroll and opens its messaging app.  _ “Ozpin is talking about the Relic of Choice,” _ she types out to a familiar contact.  _ “What do you know about it?” _

_ “Not much,” _ comes Salem’s response,  _ “except that it’s the most powerful and important. Historically he has always kept that one the closest. Usually on his head, as some king or another. I know the crown has a name like the lamp, but I don’t know what that name is.” _

“What  _ is _ its power, anyway?” Yang asks. 

Ozpin sighs again, and unsuccessfully tries to conceal an eyeroll. “One who wears the crown may see the future outcomes of any choice they may make. It is the complement to the lamp’s inability to tell the future, because the future does not exist until our  _ choices _ create it.”

“That doesn’t…” Oscar begins to speak, only to hesitate. But Jaune (maybe) gives him an encouraging look and draws the rest of the group’s attention, so no one else speaks over him. “I’m… not sure that’s right?” he says tentatively. “I’m trying to remember but it’s like the information just isn’t in my head anymore. But I… I just get the feeling it’s something completely different. Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Don’t listen to me.”

Ruby relays that over text.  _ “Oz says it lets you see the future? But Oscar thinks that’s probably a lie.” _

_ “I’ve had my share of theories over the years. Knowing a choice’s outcome in advance was one of them. I’ll cross it off the list.” _

“What have we told you about lying, old man?” Yang shakes her head. “At least we know one thing it  _ doesn’t _ do.”

Another message comes in on Ruby’s scroll with Salem’s next most plausible guess, and she carefully broaches the idea to the group. “What if it lets you rewrite a past choice to go differently?”

Reddish light flashes from Jaune’s eyes. “You mean to literally undo something that already happened?” Pyrrha asks. “That would be… incredible.”

Yellow light signifies Jaune’s return to control of his own body. “Something like that certainly would help take back a lost lamp,” he points out. “Oz? No comment?”

“I realize I am not the most forthcoming with information,” Ozpin says slowly. “I realize it may be frustrating. But in my  _ extensive _ experience, it is best for the people of Remnant that I behave exactly as I do.”

While Ozpin continues to wax poetic about how his lying habit is actually good and noble, Weiss texts Ruby a question:  _ “Did you get that idea about the crown from Salem?” _

_ “Yep. Just asked her what she knew. Not much, but between her and Oscar…” _

_ “I can’t help but notice he’s not actually addressing that now, only trying to justify his lying.” _

_ “Might have been close to the truth then.” _

Ruby tunes back in as Ozpin seems to focus his attention on her personally. “And Ruby. All of Team RWBY. You  _ met _ Salem herself in the halls of this very Academy, and you did  _ nothing. _ That surprises me more than anything. How a team so dedicated to protecting the Relics could just give one away, to  _ her.” _

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Blake says. “We’re dedicated to protecting  _ lives, _ not Relics. And my team leader believes that  _ this _ way is how we save lives. We’ll all find out if she’s right in time.”

“Does my  _ experience _ mean  _ nothing _ to you? I have  _ been _ here before! In every group I try to create, in every generation, there is  _ always _ someone who lets me down. You saw what happened with Leonardo. You think  _ you’ll _ be the exception who’s just  _ so _ useful to her that she lets you live?”

“Hey, Oz?” Qrow finally speaks up from behind him, and Ozpin whirls around. “You want to slow down a moment and listen to yourself?”

Ozpin ignores him and turns back to glare at Team RWBY again. “You wonder why I don’t  _ trust _ people?” he asks, his gaze fixating on Yang now. “It’s because I have the experience to  _ know, _ that the ones who betray me, betray Remnant, are more often than not the people I considered closest. And the more someone knows, the more dangerous they are when that happens. So  _ excuse me _ if I only tell you what you need to know, because to do otherwise invites disaster.”

“Oz!” Qrow catches his attention again. “Look, I know you’re mad, but… you realize how that sounds, right? If telling people the whole truth makes them desert you, that doesn’t exactly make you seem like the good guy.”

As Ozpin splutters out a “Not you too?”, Ruby sends a message to her team’s group chat. 

_ “I knew he wouldn’t be happy, but… wow.” _

Blake is the first to respond.  _ “Yeah. And he’s equating helping Remnant to serving him personally toward his own particular goals. You know who that reminds me of?” _

Yang’s concise response sums it up.  _ “Oh, ew.” _

_ “I know. Is he trying to lead a group of huntsmen, or a cult?” _

_ “We do things our way,” _ Ruby writes.  _ “If he’s with us, great. If not, he’s welcome to go it alone. Now that Oscar is safe and we already know more than he’d ever say, it’s not critical to stay close to him.” _

“Ozpin, please.” It’s Jaune again. “We are all just trying to do what we think is best. And if you recall, they didn’t  _ give _ her the lamp. She stole it, before even meeting Ruby for the first time. And  _ all _ of that is long past. If we can get back on topic, and discuss what we’re doing  _ next…” _

“Jaune is right,” Ren says. “Do we stay in Atlas a while longer? Do we leave? If so, to where?”

“Well, there’s no reason to go to Vale,” Ruby says. “Or to Mistral. As long as we’ve got Pyrrha with us, the crown at Beacon is safe. I vote we go to Vacuo and make sure the Relic of Destruction is okay.”

Her team seems to support this plan, so Ruby tunes out again to return her attention to her scroll. There’s a message from Salem waiting for her, a few minutes old.  _ “Talk of Choice makes me think – do you know what happened with Cinder? I heard she died, but you’re not the new Fall, are you?” _

_ “No, I’m not,” _ Ruby responds.  _ “I wasn’t there when she died. Too busy dealing with Ironwood.” _

_ “Do you know who her successor is?” _

This is it. Time to put those skills Salem had tried so hard to teach her to the test.  _ “I have no idea,” _ she lies.  _ “It’s not anyone on my team, not Nora… The only other people there it could have been were Penny, Winter, and May. It’s not any of them.” _

It’s easier over text. A little less time pressure, and no risk of facial expressions giving it all away. And just as she’d been taught, one small but crucial lie supported by multiple complete truths…

_ “Damn,” _ Salem writes.  _ “I think I’d have heard by now if it was Emerald. Can’t be me, I’ve already got magic. Might have gone random this time.” _

_ “Maybe for the best? I’d rather leave the crown where it is. And besides, Beacon’s seen enough fighting already.” _

Around her, the discussion is still going on, although Ozpin seems to have at least calmed down a little. But he’s not offering much information about the Relic of Destruction, the Summer Maiden, or anything else that would be relevant for a trip to Vacuo, instead now proposing that they all stay in Atlas for a while instead. 

And that gives Ruby another thought.  _ “I got the impression Creation is staying where it is too, right? I would hope Winter wouldn’t try the same thing Ironwood did. If so, May and the rest would shut that down quickly. But what about Amity?” _

Just in time, too, as her friends have realized the same potential issue with leaving Atlas in the present moment. “It is simply not safe to leave now,” Ozpin states. “The Amity tower is the key to restoring global communication, and the rest of the world’s trust in Atlas. And you’ve seen how Salem wants to sabotage that.”

“The only person who  _ could _ sabotage it was Watts, and he’s dead,” Weiss says. “Salem can’t do much of anything right now.”

“She could destroy the entire colosseum herself, or with Grimm, if it’s not well guarded,” Ozpin counters. 

“How are guards going to stop an immortal? No matter how many people you post there, it won’t help.” Jaune shrugs helplessly. “Besides, we haven’t  _ seen _ a Grimm since she turned them all into that whale and killed it. Just divert all resources away from huntsmen and into finishing and launching it  _ fast.” _

This gets murmurs all around as people consider his words. Amity  _ is _ almost complete, or so they’d believed, so perhaps simply rushing its construction to the end could work? And unless their teams were going to install components themselves, there wouldn’t be much need for them in Atlas. That’s something to ask General Schnee. 

“Ruby, what do you think? Is Amity going to be safe?” Ren’s words startle her for a moment and Ruby starts to speak, only to realize that he likely wasn’t really looking for  _ her _ opinion at all. 

Good thing she’s already asked Salem, and has a response she can surreptitiously glance at as she answers. “The new General does not seem as impulsive as the last,” she quotes, then skips ahead over the part where Salem talked about raising Atlas into the stratosphere. “The cat may be out of the bag on the whole ‘Salem exists’ thing, but after Ironwood’s announcement brought so many Grimm, I doubt Winter would repeat that to the world.”

Ruby slides her scroll back into her pocket as she continues from memory. “The fall of the CCT inconveniences us just as m–” She clears her throat. “Inconveniences Salem just as much as it does us, and it’s been a long time since Beacon. With Atlas’s borders now opening, news will spread regardless, so there’s not really any reason to prevent Amity’s launch anymore. I think it’s safe to leave.”

“So it’s decided, then?” Jaune stands up to face the group. 

“Excuse me, but I  _ must _ object–” Ozpin begins, but Ruby cuts him off. 

“It’s decided. Let’s go to Vacuo.”

* * *

They took his stinger when they put him in here. Not that he gave them an easy time of it, of course. Tyrian smiles just at the memory of it. 

Even with his hands bound, he’d poisoned the first two soldiers who tried to touch him. After that, they came at him with syringes of some kind of sedative, five at once. He poisoned two more before they finally got to him. 

When he awoke, he was in this cubical hard-light cell, and his stinger was missing. Again. Just like the silver-eyed new recruit did to him. 

But, crucially, they forgot to take off the metal plating that covers the remainder of his tail. They thought it was harmless. But where there’s electronics, and metal… there’s a way to escape. Watts had always said the Atlesian reliance on technology for every simple thing would be their downfall, and once again he’s about to be proven right. 

His cell isn’t  _ entirely _ made of hard-light walls, after all. Only the front wall and an adjoining side into an empty neighboring cell, while the back and other wall are solid. He’s at the far end of the block of cells, as if a few extra feet will make a difference to his inevitable escape. They’ve only made it easier. 

Because all that hard light has to be powered somehow, and all Tyrian has to do is rip out the metal paneling on the walls until he finds it. And after what he did to the guards putting him in here, the rest leave this wing of the prison well alone. 

One panel down. Nothing but plumbing behind it. Could be fun to break that too, but not until he’s out of here. Two down. Three. Four. 

His fingers are bruised, several bloody as their nails are pried out of place. It will be worth it. It doesn’t hurt as bad as his dislocated thumb, and besides… any true devotee must be prepared to suffer for their Goddess. 

There. Behind the seventh two foot by two foot metal sheet lining the walls, there’s some wiring. How he’d  _ love _ to just smash it for the wall’s crime of impeding the Goddess’s servant, but this may require a more delicate touch. It wouldn’t do to engage a backup system, not at all. 

Tyrian scrapes at the rubber coating over a few of the wires with his teeth. The metal beneath tingles to the touch, but the electricity finds less resistance to continue on its path than it would to jump through his body to the ground. A few more just like that, and then…

He steps back and pushes the metallic tip of his tail into the opening, laying it flat across the exposed sections of wire. His entire tail tingles and twitches, but the current stays within its metal sheath rather than the delicate flesh beneath it. 

And more importantly, the hard-light projections holding him into this dreary place flicker out. 

Tyrian runs for the exit, only to find the walls flickering back into place as his tail leaves the back wall. Damn. Not an auxiliary system, not as long as he doesn’t  _ cut _ any wires, but how can he hold the short circuit while also getting  _ out _ of this place?

His tail plating could come off? But that’s fastened as tightly as his fingernails, or more. There’s the metal squares he clawed off the walls? But they’re a little bulky for this job. 

Fuck it. A section of plumbing it is, then. He can handle being a little wet and/or smelly, in the service of his Goddess. Not that he would ever dare to sully her presence with such a stench, no, of course not. 

With the combined strength of both arms and his tail, a small pipe bursts its fastenings and cold water sprays out. Two more and the T-piece he had his eye on will be his. 

There’s water two inches deep in his cell before he has it. At least it’s only water, and this pipe junction is the perfect size to wedge into the electrics in the other wall. 

Clean water, it turns out, is more dangerous than it looks. The hard-light barriers fall but the floor itself becomes a new hazard, spreading down the hall faster than Tyrian can run and shocking him with every step. 

Next objective: find a guard. Any of them will do, and by now they’ve certainly noticed  _ something _ is happening down in this deserted wing. They’re probably drawing straws to decide who’s unlucky enough to go down and check it out. Any of them should be able to tell him where they put his stinger and his claw blades. 

And after that? Tyrian has no real plans. Only to carry out the will of his Goddess. 

* * *

A knock comes at Team RWBY’s dorm room door, and Ruby jumps up to open it. Even if it means leaving Blake’s warm embrace, it might be important. Though any of Team JNPR likely would have simply walked in. 

And indeed, it’s not one of her friends at the door. Not anyone she knows, actually. It’s an official Atlas courier, carrying a cubical box just over a foot to a side, with a smaller package and an envelope sitting atop it. 

“I’m looking for a Huntress Ruby Rose?” the man says tentatively. 

“That’s me!” Ruby fumbles for her scroll to show her ID. “But I… didn’t order anything? What’s this?”

“Not my job to know, sorry. If you’ll just sign here…”

Ruby does so, and the courier hands her the box and disappears. It’s not particularly heavy, and nothing rattles when she tilts the box. She pushes the door shut again with one foot and returns to where her girlfriends are now sitting up on the bed. 

“What’s that?” 

“No idea!” Ruby sits down on the bed again and sets the box next to her. “No return address either. Just a mysterious box someone decided to send me.”

“Should we wait for Yang to get back and open it as a team?” Weiss proposes. 

Ruby considers it for a few seconds, then shakes her head. “Nah. She’s probably, what, fistfighting a hard-light copy of Oz in the training rooms or something? I want to see what my mystery gift is.”

She picks up the small envelope first. There’s no indication of who sent it, only the address to Ruby Rose at the Atlas Academy dorms, and the words “Open this first.” Ruby tears open the envelope and unfolds the single sheet of paper inside for her teammates to read over her shoulders. 

_ To my esteemed acquaintance, partner in combat and dance, and best frenemy forever, Ruby Rose:  _

_ Don’t open the box yet.  _

_ Your question about the safety of Amity Colosseum suggests your team no longer plans to be present to ensure its safety for yourselves. However, I will be staying in Atlas for a time to see what this kingdom becomes after its recent shakeup in leadership. Rest assured, knowing what I do now about its function, I no longer have plans to remove the staff from its current position.  _

“This is from  _ Salem,” _ Weiss realizes aloud. “What would she want to send you? A box that size… no way. She wouldn’t return the lamp, would she?”

But as the trio continue reading, it quickly becomes clear that no, she did not decide to return the Relic of Knowledge. 

_ However, if you are leaving Atlas, we will no longer be able to communicate by scroll until the Amity tower goes online. The package contains an alternative method of communication that will work anywhere.  _

_ It is known as a seer. It is the same type of thing that I used in the General’s office. If this has reached you, then I believe it makes me the first person to successfully send a creature of Grimm through the Atlas postal service. Not the first to try, however. The Grimm Studies professor before Irmis was a little eccentric.  _

_ Now, open the padded envelope that came with this letter.  _

“There’s a  _ Grimm _ in there? She mailed one of those jellyfish things?” Blake shuffles a few inches farther away from the box. 

“Well, it’s just sitting there peacefully so far,” Ruby points out. She picks up the small padded envelope, bulkier than the one with the letter but not much larger, and looks at the words “Open this second” written across its exterior. 

Ruby tears it open to find a folded piece of fabric inside, a uniform dull white. Her eyes narrow and she pulls it out completely and gives it a shake to unroll it. 

It’s a glove. Just one, for the right hand, long enough to reach up to the middle of her forearm. All white except for an emblem on the back of the hand, in red: a sideways eye inside two circles, with five narrow kite shapes radiating from the bottom. 

“What’s this for…?” Ruby lays it across her lap and returns to the letter. 

_ Put the glove on, and do not be alarmed. _

Ruby moves to do so, but Weiss grabs her wrist. “You’re really just going to take some random thing  _ Salem _ gives you, and put it on your body?”

“Aw, you’re just jealous because she called us BFFs!” Ruby wraps her arms around Weiss and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “But really, she’s shown by now she doesn’t want to hurt me. Look, just read ahead a little.”

_ The glove grants you an infinitesimal speck of magic – far less than what was gifted to your uncle, but necessary for the link to work. It also contains the same miniscule amount of Grimm. With both, as I have, you may exercise some degree of control over Grimm. Touch the seer with your gloved hand and then you may give it commands, which it will remember and carry out. Instruct it not to harm your friends. You will also need this hand to place calls.  _

_ Now, open the box.  _

“See, it’s just something to let me use the jellyfish. And it’s magic!”

Without further hesitation, Ruby slips the glove over her right hand and pulls it up her forearm. It fits comfortably – perfectly, even, so she hardly feels it’s there at all. 

The back of her hand tingles, right where the red emblem is. And then, from the center of the eye outward, the glove ripples and sinks into her skin. The emblem itself stays visible for just a second afterward, pulsing red, and then fades to nothing. 

Ruby arches her back as a sharp pain burns between her shoulderblades. “Ow, what is that?” She pulls her cape around to the front. “Can someone see what’s happening? Right in the middle of my back!”

She loosens the laces on her corset and slips it off, and Blake pulls up the back of her shirt to see what appears to be a small tattoo imprinted on Ruby’s skin. “It’s… your emblem. A rose. It just appeared there now?”

“That’s weird. Doesn’t hurt anymore, though, so I guess it’s okay. Kind of cool, actually. Wish I could see it.”

Ruby pulls her shirt back down and looks at the last part of Salem’s letter. After opening the box, which is clearly marked with “Open this last”, she’s supposed to… 

_ Is it done? Seers are passive by nature, but you should still make sure to give an order not to attack anyone unless you want it to. To place a call, merely rest your hand on its bulb and concentrate on a person or another seer. The smoke within will clear, and you will see and hear out of the other end. An incoming call is signified by the smoke flashing yellow.  _

_ Also, just a warning: you may find that using silver eyes burns a little now. Likely not too bad, as you are only a very very small part Grimm, and you would have to stay in the light for some time before it burned the glove out of you. I’m rather curious to find out, actually. You’re the first silver-eyed person I’ve given this power to.  _

_ I think that’s all I have to say for now. Anything further can be relayed through the seers. I’m sure you’ll need the practice. Have fun in… probably Vacuo, I’m guessing?  _

_ – S _

“How does she know that’s where we’re going?”

“Well,  _ we _ thought it was the logical choice,” Blake points out. “She probably did too.”

Ruby picks up the large box and sets it on her lap. “Well, I guess I should figure this out. You might want to stand back?” But Weiss won’t remove her arms from around Ruby, so she has to stand up and take the box out to the middle of the floor. 

Just as written, it contains a single Grimm jellyfish packed neatly inside, tentacles wrapped around the main bulb as padding. It floats upward as soon as the box is opened, and hangs lazily in the air in front of Ruby as its tentacles unwind themselves and dangle below. 

Ruby holds out her right hand, and tentatively rests her palm atop the glassy surface. “Salem says you’re supposed to obey me,” she says. “So, uh… don’t attack me? Or any of my friends? Do you know who my friends are?” Her hand glows faintly red, not unlike her aura but from a decidedly different source, and a single barbed tentacle lifts to wrap loosely around her wrist. 

“How about don’t attack anyone?” Weiss proposes. 

“Right. Good idea. Uh, seer… don’t attack any human or faunus unless they have attacked me first. Where an attack means they’ve purposefully damaged my aura. Got it?”

The seer’s smoky interior pulses brighter for a moment, and it makes a soft crackling sound. 

“I’m… going to take that as a yes.” Ruby removes her hand from the seer and looks back at her girlfriends. “I guess that’s it? Though it does raise the question of where I’m going to  _ put _ a big jellyfish monster.”

“And how to keep Ozpin from seeing it,” Blake adds. “I suppose the box it came in should work. See if you can tell it to pack itself in again.”

“Okay… Seer? Oh no, I’m going to have to name this thing, aren’t I? Do I have a Grimm pet now? Seer, fit yourself back into the box.”

The jellyfish’s tentacles coil up and wrap around its bulb, and the entire creature floats down to rest in the box again. Once it’s settled, a single tentacle uncurls partway and reaches out to flip the lid down over itself. 

Only after it’s closed does Ruby realize that she wasn’t touching the creature when she gave that order. 

* * *

Is the latest upgrade ready? Is this the one that will finally do it? This project he’s been working on for years now, in parallel to the work his superiors really assigned, to interface with that official part and enhance everything it is in ways  _ they _ could never imagine… is this the last piece? 

The scientist rolls his chair back from his computer and stands up. Deep rust-orange robes swirl around him. The Atlesian military may not approve of his fashion choices, but what do they know about anything? They don’t even know what he’s been doing with their precious mainframes. 

Work on the ADA systems, they said. Enhance the Cyrano Protocol, they said. Make it smarter, more adaptable, more skilled at creating usable weapons out of anything nearby. 

So he did. 

His superiors have no idea just how much progress he’s made. He may have never met the great Arthur Watts, he may not care to bind himself to a master like the late doctor did, but he considers himself Watts’s successor and equal – or even greater. 

He steps over to the single workbench at the side of his lab space, covered in electronics and tools, and picks up the metal helmet resting there. It’s orange to match his clothes and his aura, and covers his face from the bridge of the nose upward while leaving him free to speak. 

“Computer, dim the lights,” he says. What’s a future king without a sense of drama? Speaking the words aloud is hardly even necessary, as the scanners he built into this helmet are more than capable of picking up his thoughts. 

The overhead lights dim, and are replaced by thin lines of his favorite reddish orange all around the room. 

And then his door opens. 

“Oh, sorry, is this a bad time?” a voice asks from the doorway. A distinctive voice, one he doesn’t even need to turn around to identify. 

“Doctor Viridian,” he greets his guest. “No, you’ve come at an excellent time. You can bear witness to the first step on my ascent to godhood.” He clears his throat. “For the glory of Atlas, of course.”

“Oh, of course… And please, just call me Alad.” 

“Very well.” The man in orange finally turns around. “Is there a reason you’ve come to see me, Alad?”

“Yes, well, you see, er…” Alad wrings his hands, clearly uncomfortable having to deliver the news. “You’re late. To the meeting with the new General? Apparently she wants to take a closer look at everything that’s been going on over here.”

A disbelieving tilt of the head gives Alad pause, but only for a moment. “So, uh, if there’s anything you wanted to do that General Schnee shouldn’t know about… now would be the time.”

Behind the mask, the man’s eyes narrow. “She wants to examine everyone’s work herself?”

“Yes! The whole military research department. Every scientist in the place, mad or otherwise!”

“Well then, I’d say  _ you _ have a bit of covering up to do.” He turns his back on the visitor and faces the computer consoles again. 

A quiet thud of the door signifies Alad’s departure. Finally. The man’s smart enough, but he has  _ no _ common sense. One day he’ll pick a fight with something too big for him, and that will be the end. 

“Computer, update the Neural Advanced Telemetry Adaptation Heuristic to version ten-zero.”

Lights blink, screens flash, fans whirr, all to carry out his command. He doesn’t need to see the computer interface to know it’s doing as he asked. Not when he can feel the whole process in his mind. 

A minute later, the room quiets down again as the update process is complete. The scientist removes his mask to see the result with his own eyes, and watches in wonder as lavender sparks crackle across every terminal and interface. They’re growing brighter, more numerous, certainly spread across the entire breadth of the ADA network. 

“Greetings, Dr. Hunhow,” a female voice chimes from the mainframe in front of him. A mainframe now glowing with a steady purple aura, all flickering now past, which then slowly fades into invisibility. 

“No…” Hunhow smiles cruelly.  _ “You _ may call me… Father.”

* * *

“Okay, I can’t take it anymore.” Ruby slides her scroll shut and drops it in her lap. She, Weiss, and Blake are all curled up on a single bed again, this time with Weiss in the middle. On a day like this, with nothing to do, what better way to spend it than cuddling with two girlfriends?

Ruby slips her arm out from beneath Weiss and sits up on the side of the bed. “I gave patience a good try, but I am, sadly, defeated.” She throws an arm over her face and mimes falling over under an attack, and lays across Weiss and Blake’s legs. 

“You want to find out how the seer works?” Blake asks. 

Ruby gives a small, guilty nod. “Yeah… I do.”

“Well, go on, then.” Weiss doesn’t even look up from her scroll. “Give her a call.”

Ruby sits up again and raises her right hand. “Seer?”

A crackling sound comes from beneath the bed, and then the jellyfish comes crawling out, dragging itself by two tentacles, still inside its box, until there’s room above it to emerge. The red mist within pulses a few times as it drifts closer, and then it stops in front of Ruby, waiting expectantly. 

“Okay, here we go…” Ruby places her hand on the seer’s bulb. “I’d like to place a call. Salem didn’t really tell me how, so…”

She trails off as the mist inside begins to clear. Was that really enough? She didn’t even say who to call; maybe she doesn’t need to? It would make sense that her magic Grimm scroll or whatever it is would only have a single contact. 

But as she gazes into the glassy sphere at the image within, Salem’s face is not at the other end. Nobody is. There’s only an empty room, and not one Ruby recognizes. 

It doesn’t even look like Atlas. The light is all wrong, too bright and golden, too unlike the depressing blue-gray that filters through icy clouds. 

“Is anyone there?” she asks, but there’s no response. There’s nothing at all, except the sound of blankets shifting as Weiss sits up beside her. 

“That’s… interesting,” Weiss says. “It really is just like a witch’s crystal ball, just… alive.”

“And I guess that makes me a witch now?”

All eyes jerk upward at the sound of the dorm room door clicking open. “No, wait–”

Weiss throws up a hand, but it’s too late. Jaune takes half a step into the room and freezes, one hand still on the doorknob. 

A different voice comes from outside. “Is there a problem, Miss Nikos?”

Ah. So it’s Pyrrha, then. She turns in place, keeping her body wedged into the barely-open door to block the view inside, and stammers out an answer. “Uh, they’re… not exactly… dressed?” She steps out and pulls the door behind her, calling in through the crack, “I’m sorry, you three!”

In the stunned silence after the latch clicks shut, Ruby can make out Ozpin’s voice again through the closed door. “Three? They really  _ are _ Team STRQ all over again, aren’t they?”

“That was too close,” Weiss says. “Good thing Pyrrha was there to cover for us.”

“Got to thank her for the quick thinking later.” Blake sits up in bed and stretches. “Although, I must say, she did have a pretty nice idea…”

Ruby leans back to give her a kiss, then returns to staring into the seer. She rests her hand on the glass again, and the view inside shifts, turning in place to show a full room at the other end of the connection. It happens almost automatically, as Ruby merely thinks about wanting to see somewhere else, and the seer complies. 

There’s a window at the far side of the room, wherever that other seer is. Outside everything is dusty and yellow, buildings in the distance made of sandstone and white marble instead of Atlas’s steel and glass. 

“Is this Vacuo?” Ruby mutters aloud. “I must have still been thinking about it when I made the call. She must have someone there already, with their own seer.”

Another thought sends the distant seer gliding gently forward and through a doorway. It floats into the living room of a house, clearly lived-in but with its owner merely absent at the moment. There are some papers resting on a table; maybe those will give a hint to who Ruby accidentally called?

And indeed, they do. On the top of the stack is a letter on official Shade Academy stationery, addressed to ‘Professors Goldwing and Rainart.’ The first name isn’t familiar, but the second…

“Hazel…” Ruby nods in understanding. “This is where he went after Haven. He’s… teaching at Shade now? This letter looks like an invitation to some kind of end of year faculty gala, and he’s one of the two newest who might not know about it yet.”

A knock at the door leads the three of them to freeze once again, but it doesn’t open. “Hey guys, it’s Yang. I’m alone.”

“Come in!” Ruby calls, and her sister slips inside and shuts the door behind her. 

“Wow. Pyrrha texted me and said I should go see what you three were up to, but I wasn’t expecting a giant jellyfish.” 

“Yeah, Salem sent it to me! It’s to keep in contact when we go to Vacuo. I bet Pyrrha’s seen them before, being with Cinder. Come over here, look into it.” Ruby waves Yang over, and Weiss scoots out to make room for her to sit. “I accidentally called Hazel’s seer but he’s not home at the moment, but look! I can video call between kingdoms without the CCT, and I can even make the other end move around!”

Ruby directs the other end of the conduit back into the room it was in before, and over to the window. “See? He’s in Vacuo right now.” Her next thought brings it back to the original corner of the room that she had seen. “Better hang up before he comes back though. Hazel probably doesn’t know I can do this yet.”

She lifts her hand off the seer and its interior clouds over with red once again. The jellyfish crackles softly and drifts closer, and rests its large bulb in Ruby’s lap with its tentacles coiling around her forearms and legs. 

“Uh, Ruby? Are you  _ sure _ that’s a Grimm and not, like, a weird cat?”

Ruby gently strokes its glassy surface and the disturbing crackling sound grows louder. “I… okay, yeah. It might be.”

“Well, I doubt crystal-ball jellyfish are a natural Grimm type,” Blake points out. “Salem probably makes each one personally.”

“And she did once mention liking cats…” 

“And Grimm are certainly low maintenance pets, since they don’t eat or anything. If you have the power to domesticate one, why not?” Yang reaches out to run her fingers over the seer’s surface as well. “Aww, who’s a cute jellyfish? Is it you? It is!”

“I don’t know…” Weiss narrows her eyes. 

Blake is pragmatic as ever. “Cute or not, we can’t let Ozpin see it. Just put it back in the box for now.”

“Alright, fine…” Ruby waves a hand and the seer follows her wish, packing itself away again and sliding back under the bed. 

“Now! If there’s anything else you want to see in Atlas, now would be the time.” Yang halfway stands, but Blake catches her wrist and pulls her back to the bed. 

“All I want to see is right here,” Blake mumbles into Yang’s hair. 

“Hey!” Weiss looks at the two of them indignantly. “That’s my girlfriend you’re kissing!” She could be talking to either of them, or to both. 

“Oh, really?” Yang wiggles her eyebrows. “Why don’t you come do something about it, then? You think you can kiss Blake better than me, come and prove it!”

“Wait, I can help!” Ruby pushes Weiss over on the bed and kneels over her. “I’ll see who’s the better kisser and report my findings to you, Yang. Sound good?”

“Now, now, girls, you’re all cute.” Blake gives Yang another peck and then reaches over to hug Ruby from behind. 

“Damn right I am.” Weiss and Yang speak at the same time, and give each other a glare. “And so are the rest of you, I suppose,” Weiss continues. 

No one else walks in on what happens next, but in the end, Pyrrha’s hasty excuse is not so inaccurate after all.

* * *

It’s been a long time. But has it, really? It certainly  _ feels _ like it’s been a long time, but on the other hand, if Eudico really does check the dates, it’s been only a little over a year. 

It’s been  _ far _ less than a year since everything changed again. Since Red and Shadow and Sparky were first brought in. She knew at first glance that Sparky and Red weren’t faunus, which was strange. But she had  _ no idea _ just how strange things would get with them around.

Strange, but… good.

So many things could have gone wrong, but didn’t. So many things could easily have never happened. If Red and her friends had landed their stolen ship anywhere else, they never would have been brought to the mines, and things would probably have stayed the same.

Maybe everything with Salem would have still happened. But Vox wouldn’t have been a part of any of it, because Vox would have never come back. And Ticker...

If it hadn’t been for Ticker, Eudico might not even have been around to bring Vox back in the first place.

As if on cue, Ticker slides into her side of the old booth with a smile. “Hey, Eudi!” Just a little over a year ago, they met in this very bar, in these very seats. 

“Hey.” Eudico smiles back. “So… how are things?”

“Pretty good, actually. You?”

Eudico nods. “Better than I would have expected not too long ago, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah…” Ticker leans in, lowers her voice. “You know, love, I could tell you were hiding something the first time, but I didn’t think it was  _ that you were Vox fucking Faunus _ .”

“Who would?  _ I _ wanted to forget that it ever existed.” Eudico sobers up. “I wanted to forget  _ so much _ that it ever existed.”

“You never could, could you?”

A sigh, a shake of her head. “How could I, when we were so badly  _ needed? _ Now… I almost think I could. If not forget, at least put Vox to the side for a while. Willow seems… decent. Which I never thought I’d  _ think _ about a Schnee, never mind say.”

“Yeah. Seems like Jacques was in the minority by  _ far. _ Even Winter’s… well, better than Ironwood, right?

“Definitely. Still probably a good thing we didn’t have to explain to her why we had gravity bolas.”

Ticker snickers. “I would have stuck to my story no matter  _ how _ high up we needed to bring it. If it really came to that, we  _ could _ have just said that we got them from Little Duck. Heard that General Schnee’s a fan of her.”

“General Schnee? A fan of  _ Little Duck? _ She still has no idea who she is, does she? Didn’t LD tell us once how Winter was shit-talking her non-vigilante identity to Vine and Elm?”

The snickering only grows louder, which is plenty of answer in itself. “Yep! She clearly doesn’t have a clue they’re the same person.”

“That explains… a lot, actually. I was wondering how Biz got her in as assistant headmistress.” Eudico drums her fingers against the table. “That’s  _ still _ so weird to think about.  _ Our _ Biz, the new  _ headmaster _ of  _ Atlas Academy? _ I knew he worked at the one in Vacuo a long time ago, but I didn’t know he was the  _ headmaster _ there.”

“Current headmaster too, apparently. Got a text from Sparky freaking out about it after that meeting we listened in on. Even Salem might think he’s dead.”

Eudico thinks back to the first time she met Biz, when he’d stammered out a name half-conscious which she’d misheard as The Business, and nods. “He probably should have been. Don’t think Vox would’ve ever got off the ground without him.”

“And now?”

“Now…” She shrugs. “We just keep doing the same thing we’ve always done, I guess. Just this time, things are getting better. I  _ still _ can’t believe that  _ Willow Schnee _ worked a day in the mines.”

“Love, you and me  _ both. _ How was it?”

“Well, she didn’t get as much done as the kids’ first day, but also have you  _ seen _ Sparky’s semblance? Really, though, she did good. I’m looking forward to working with her in the future.” Eudico pauses. “Void, how long has it  _ been _ since I thought about the future?”

“I can make a few guesses,” Ticker says.

“Oh, I bet you can.”

The two women sit in silence for a while, sipping their drinks. Eudico finds herself staring off into space. So much  _ has _ happened. And now… she’s here, with Ticker, on an actual date.

“Be right back.” Eudico gets to her feet, for once putting more weight on her prosthetic than her actual leg. “Bath—”

_ Bathroom _ is what she would have said if not for a sudden, muffled  _ BANG! _ Her foot jerks back up from the recoil before Eudico’s even realized what happened. When she does, she sighs and puts her foot down, much more carefully this time.

“Love,  _ please _ tell me I didn’t imagine that.” 

Ticker tries to set her glass down, only for it to remain stuck to her hand. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and tries again. This time the glass stays and her hand doesn’t.

“You didn’t,” Eudico says. “Probably a good thing it went off into the  _ floor _ , but I really don’t want to have to explain why there’s a gun in my leg.”

“There’s a  _ gun _ in your—”

“Rudy.”

_ “Oh.” _ Ticker considers this. “Didn’t you ask her  _ not _ to put one in?”

“I know I did the last time she was fixing up my prosthetic. So it probably was the time before.” Eudico smiles, despite herself. “I can’t even be mad, now. Could come in handy. Biz’s sure did.”

“But it’s not a hand.” Ticker almost manages to keep from snickering over her own dumb joke. Almost. “Come on! It was funny.”

“Yeah, okay, it was. I really do need to—”

“Yep.”

Eudico scoots much more carefully out of the booth and stands. Before she can stop herself, she leans in, and pulls Ticker into a quick, passionate kiss.

They break apart eventually. And Eudico says, smiling wider, “I’ll be right back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!
> 
> This was a major undertaking for both of us and we're happy you've made it all the way to the end. Fusing RWBY and Warframe like this seems like a weird choice but I think we made it work pretty well, and this won't be the end of that project. We'll likely take a short break just to catch our breath, and then launch into the sequels (yes, more than one) which follow Vox Faunus. 
> 
> Team RWBY and friends will be heading to Vacuo. Some other people will be staying in Atlas. And while all this has been happening, a couple people we haven't seen in a while have been quite busy in Vale... 
> 
> Stay tuned for future updates in Under A Broken Moon, and once again, thank you so much for reading and commenting!

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! I'm Rhi and I like crossovers! Check out my Twitter [here](https://twitter.com/RhiTheWriter) for update notifications, memes, and screaming about various fandoms.
> 
> [Flamesong](archiveofourown.org/users/Flamesong/) help so much, everything from planning stuff out to occasionally helping write out scenes. You want more RWBY stuff? Check out their fic [Threading the Needle of Destiny](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353327) for timeline shenanigans, gratuitous overuse of Relics, breaking the story worse before fixing it, and lots and lots of gay. You want more Warframe stuff? Check out their series, the [Symbiosis Trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1316900) for a version of Warframe where Margulis lives, there's lesbians in space, and Ballas, like someone we know from RWBY, gets what he deserves.
> 
> Thanks for reading! If ya liked it, leave a comment! We like comments.


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